TOG In Space
by cmopatrick
Summary: A novel about Shawn Ryan and his adventures set in the Star Citizen universe. Please note that this was begun in 2013 (only months after the Star Citizen funding campaign launched), long before most of the game mechanics had been described (much less finalized). (update:) When canon Xi'An content was finally added, the story fell completely out of canon (their choice, not mine).
1. Prelude

_(_ _Please note that this is a work of fan fiction, set in the Star Citizen universe. The marks and properties, 'Star Citizen', 'Squadron 42', 'Cloud Imperium Games', and 'Roberts Space Industries' are property of Cloud Imperium Games Corp. and Roberts Space Industries Corp ("RSI"). All rights in content, including places, characters, concepts, and ships produced and created by RSI relating to said marks and properties belong to RSI._ _)_

June 17, 2909

Today I graduate. It has been a long, ugly, and unexpected path that brings me to this, one that none would have ever expected me to rise from. Perhaps I should explain.

I grew up on a backwater ag world on a farm my grandpa had dug out of primordial muck not more than forty years before I was born. It was run-down when I was a lad and it only got worse with the pummeling of time. We raised sedge and wheat, grapes and peaches, and a god-awful root crop called 'puds' that tasted like sour glue mixed with curdled milk and cattle-pies. Chores were a twelve to fourteen hour a day grind; they stunk and so did everything I knew or owned. The only thing that gave me relief was school work... go figure, right? But my hard work there paid off enough that my scores showed promise and I got a scholarship to a tech school. Okay, it was a Covalex corporate tech school; after five months of initial training, they sent me up to the void learn the rest.

In space, I learned how to maintain and repair their scows as we ran produce and supplies across the vast emptiness. It was really work, but I also spent those months learning how not to get sick when jumping, not to drink enough to get stupid, and when to duck to avoid getting hit by whomever. Unfortunately, I also wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time; three months to the day after I got into space, we were waylaid by pirates after we had just emerged from a jump. Okay, they called themselves 'Protection Entrepreneurs', but they were still scum in spacecraft led by some 'infamous' lout named Jordan Ikasori. We were herded off our Freelancers and together onto a Caterpillar to be held for ransom.

Two days later, I thought things were suddenly getting better when a small team of Advocacy Agents chasing "Commodore" Ikasori struck and recovered the whole lot of us. They lost their target, but we were free!

Well... almost: my luck had really run out; the lists of Covalex employees the Agents had were probably six months old... and I was not on them. I was herded away with the captured pirates; none of the crew had a chance to speak up to identify me. In the end, I was summarily convicted on several counts of piracy and shipped off to a Roussimoff Rehabilitation Systems compound to serve a couple life sentences.

I learned to survive. I got a strong indoctrination into the criminal element's "culture" and almost became one of them... almost. I learned when to lose my temper and when to chill, when to stand my ground and when to back away. I even learned when to tell a joke and when not to. My one saving grace was when one Rehab tech took a bit of pity on me and got me into the tech training sequence they had. Okay, I had to do the tech's taxes for him, but it was a fair swap.

For nine years, I was in that facility. Let's be honest: we were really slave labor in a prison setting. I helped build the Silent Sentinel's and, after a year or so, rose to where I was the highest ranking prisoner on the Armor production line. Life was better... until I flirted with a young librarian; she just happened to be the warden's daughter.

The nastiest job in our facility involved cleaning the exceptionally aromatic solid waste out of the septic holding ponds at our waste water treatment plant. I'll give you three guesses where the warden sent me to work, and you probably only need one.

Well, I can say that the wheels of justice finally aligned for me and someone somewhere matched my DNA with the Covalex database. I was up to my knees in... well... flush residue, when I was called over to the rehab tech on the pond bank. There was a tall, well dressed woman standing with him, holding a large folder. While she appeared repulsed by my approach, she did manage to choke out that I was to clean up and come to a release hearing.

Two hours, a painfully long shower, and a lot of deodorant later, I sat in the sub-warden's office to hear that the Advocacy had finally discovered the error. Stunned I sat, trying to reorient myself as I was informed that the High-Advocate's office had ordered my immediate release with a small compensation package to perhaps assist me in returning to a normal life.

That brings me to where I am today. The package included attending the Advocacy's piloting academy on Terra. I'm not going to be an Agent, but I'm qualified as a pretty good pilot. On top of that, there's a brand spanking new Origin 315p at the spaceport with my name on it. I'll be an explorer or a hired gun in her, or maybe even a bounty hunter. I have enough credits to not start out quite broke and lifetime insurance on her picked up by the High-Advocate's office.

Best of all, I think, is that I became a Citizen today! No, I'm not really sure if that is all that important, but just over an hour ago I was vested at a small ceremony by one of the Terran Senators! It was... well, I was going to say "awesome" but when I really think about it, it was a lot of pompous folks trying to help me forget the nine years they stole from me. Well... I don't expect to ever meet them again, and at least I think I appeared happy and excited. Anyway, I'm not a civ any more. I wonder what the rest of 2909 will bring.


	2. Chapter 1 - Just Another Run

_(Covalex shipping platform Xenia in the Baker system, June 17, 2943)_

Across the room somewhere behind me I hear someone say just loudly enough, "Who let the slink in here?" followed by a bit of hostile laughter.

I look towards the entrance and sure enough, striding powerfully towards me is Kree'Gna, my friend and sometimes partner.

I rise and offer a modest bow, "Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

I see his expression change to what I know is his version of a warm smile, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

I step away from my chair and offer it to him as the eldest present. "I would be honored if you would take my place."

He nods in return and replies, "I would be honored if we agree all chairs are equal among friends. Please, keep your seat today."

"Thank you. Will you sit, my friend?"

He does and I then resume my seat.

"How have you been?" I ask while signaling to the waitress that I would now like her service.

"Chash'anori (Pretty good). Business has been much as usual. And you?"

"Chash'ambosari (Good enough). Had to get the 315p replaced after it got shot up on a guard run, but the new one will be fine once the replacement upgrades get in. You having your usual?"

"Yes, if they have it."

The younger waitress arrives. Okay, younger is a state of mind... let's just say I'm old enough to be her dad and leave it at that. She knows me and has at least met Kree'Gna before, so she isn't shy and knows I'm not going to hit on her. Not that she isn't hot, you understand, but I already know I'm too old for her tastes.

"Mariel, have you met Kree'Gna?"

"Yeah, TOG, I... er... yes, I have had the honor." She remembers her courtesies and offers a slight bow his way.

"This will all be on my tab," I explain before Kree'Gna has a chance to do the same.

He smiles, "Are you sure? I've been eating Torreele and our version for weeks... I have quite the appetite for real food."

I smile and look up at the woman waiting with her orderglas, "Two of your best 600 gram porterhouse, boneless and raw, with Xi'rrahn sauce and a pitcher of Glee'ha for my friend and I'll have that half kilo prime rib, medium well, small red potatoes, no other veggies, and one of your Earth Guiness pint bottles, cold."

She checks that the voice recognition on her glas has gotten the order right, makes a correction of some sort, and looks up, "Will there be any desert?"

"Let's wait until we've finished, but maybe."

Mariel smiles indulgently and nods. "I'll get right on it, TOG," she says before whirling away.

"I will never get used to that, Shawn Ryan."

"What's that, Kree'Gna?"

"So many use your call name to acknowledge you in conversation."

"Well, I figure it's good for business. Since 'TOG' means 'The Old Guy', folks know that it is most likely me."

The Xi'An's laughter is more guttural than ours, but it is merry nevertheless, "Old? You are a young lizard even compared to me."

"Yeah, but there aren't many other graybeards among our pilots, now are there?" Laughing, I add, "Besides, if I were green, my laugh lines wouldn't show as well."

He laughs again, "Oh, forgive me. I thought they were just wrinkles from you wearing out..." He pauses, than asks with sudden seriousness, "Would you rather I call you 'TOG' also?"

"No, my friend. I am most honored that you pronounce my name."

Nodding again, he replies, "Yes, Shawn Ryan is a name known to come with honor by the many traders of the Xi'An."

I bow a bit to acknowledge his compliment and respond, "Just as Kree'Gna is known as a Xi'An of the highest intellect and courtesy by the corps and pilots between here and Terra."

Mariel has returned with our meals and as the smells waft on the gentle air currents, we share a moment of appreciation before each digs in with gusto.

…..

"So, I wish to inquire if your new craft is available for an escort run?"

"Well, I still need the upgraded jets and my scanners are still the stock ones... you in a slug or something faster?"

"I am flying a Xress, can you keep up?"

"Oooh, the sleek new thing? I thought they only made what we call 'racers'."

He chuckles, or at least that's what the sound he is making translates into. "You are observant, Shawn Ryan. And if you did not waste your income on poor investments, you would have the like also, would you not?"

Ouch. "My tea plantation is a good investment."

"You refuse to use slaves and you pay your workers too much. Have you ever made a profit?"

"Well... no, but my white jasmine is even appreciated at the Xi'An court, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course. But only by the females."

I blow a raspberry at him.

"Ah, the maturity of your race. Perhaps you should not finish your ale."

"Stout," I shake my head. "Guinness is a 'stout'." He is right, though. I seem to be a little lighter headed than I expect.

"So, Shawn Ryan, the question still stands: can you keep up?"

"Can you wait a day to at least let me get my main thruster right?

He looks thoughtful, "I will only wait a sleep. Maybe sixteen hours?" He pauses then asks, "Perhaps I should check for another. Would you mind, my friend?"

I look down at my glas; it shows that the shuttle with my parts should be here in three hours, installation is nine if I do it solo, but I could halve that if I hire some help. If the parts don't make it in time, I'll stash them in my little cargo box and put them on later. Glancing back up at him, I can tell from the expression that he knows I'm at a disadvantage right now; I think he's trying to give me a way to save face. "My friend, I would fly your wing any time, but your Xress has at least a half percent of light speed more than I can be sure of... I would be an anchor unless you can leave me if we get in trouble."

He considers my position. "If I am willing to accept that risk, are you?"

I smile, "Yes, Kree'Gna. I will be your wing."

"You are a good human and a good friend, Shawn Ryan. I trust you and am glad for your protection."

"Then I'll be ready with whatever I have in six hours."

I reach for my Guinness and watch his eyes track the bottle all the way to my lips. "Is that wise?" He asks just before I can take a swallow.

He is going to be depending on me soon... "Perhaps not," I admit as I lower the remains to the tabletop.

While I'm paying the bill, I hear another meal-head mutter "slink" as well as some other even less savory words. I glance at Kree-Gna and am once again impressed that he is impassive to the remarks; not that many decades ago, he might have expressed himself with some impressive physical or verbal display.

"You have matured with grace, my friend," I opine as we walk to the exit.

He looks briefly my way and replies, "Thank you."

Out into the long gallery we go. I can't see his craft, but in border stations they often segregate Xi'An to their own area.

We turn to face each other. "So, Shawn Ryan, I will be on our green-blue link. I can leave whenever your craft is space-worthy."

"Thank you for your consideration, Kree'Gna. Blue-green it is," I smirk.

He grins and allows himself a moment to roll his eyes, "Green-blue."

I smile in return. Bowing, I offer, "Kree'Gna, athle-korr."

He returns the bow, "Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

I wince as I realize I mispronounced it... again. "Sorry, didn't mean to butcher the 'ē' again."

Uncharacteristically, he reaches out and drops his hand on my shoulder, "It is enough to me that you work so hard trying to learn it. There was a time when you couldn't be bothered."

"I'm glad you didn't give up on me."

"It is no big deal, my friend. We are both learning that these things take time."

"Yup. See you in a while."

"Gath." With that he turns and strides away.

I, too, turn to where my new 315p sits waiting for a name and her maiden flight.

…..

"Not a lot of room on her, is there?" Danny Marsten, the tech I've hired to help asks.

"Nope. Don't really need it," I answer.

"You must be one of them courier types?"

"Escort on occasion."

"What's in the pylon pods?" he asks. "They ain't stock."

I'm starting to get annoyed by the questions. "Just things to help me stay alive."

"Oh. I see."

"Hold that side steady, Ok?" I'm trying to get the thruster to afterburner adapter collar lined up with the retaining bolts, but it just seems bent on driving me nuts... pun not intended.

"Yeah, just tell me where."

"Up a centimeter." I can see the opening becoming less occluded, there... ooops, "Too far. Back up just a smidge."

"What the heck is a smidge?"

"Start with a hair."

He does and stands there waiting.

"One more."

Now the hole is almost perfectly aligned, I jam the bolt against the threads and try to start it. YES! Turning it enough times for it to hold if we slip while getting another one in. Moving to the other side, I'm almost face to face with the freckled teen holding up his end of the bargain.

"Ok, up a millimeter or so?"

It moves and Danny asks, "You're pretty old for a pilot, aren't you?"

"Yup. That's why the call me TOG."

"Terribly Ornery Goat?"

I chuckle. "Up another millimeter. And no, 'The Old Guy', though if I had thought of it I might have gone with your guess."

"Bob in parts guessed that."

Thinking of the ways the named gentleman converses, "I'm surprised that Bob in parts wasn't a bit more salty or creative. One more millimeter up." The hole aligns and I repeat establishing a firm bolt to thread relationship. "Got it."

"You going out in her soon?"

"Yeah, need to give her a shakedown, but I need a nap, too. Here's your hundred," I add as I make the transfer on the mobiglas.

His chimes and once he sees the deposit, he is grinning like a teenager. No, he is one... er... he is grinning like a well paid prost... um, no, bad example... how about grinning like a Master's Champion. Well I hope that example will do; in the time I've wasted getting my example correct, he has headed off with the credits all but literally burning a hole in his pocket.

I settle into the pilot's chair and lay the chip with my AI software onto a connection pad. Okay, it isn't a truly smart, self aware AI, but it has an exhaustive database of serious and not so much so info, status, and pseudo conversational quips and comments, professionally voice recorded by the guy who played the "famous" voicecaster Duncan Fischer from my favorite pastime game. The program loads and a flat voice announces, "Spacecraft Voice companion with George Ledoux. To install, say 'Install'."

"Install."

The voice changes to the more familiar one, "Do you want a complete install, or the more complex version of the whole thing for morons who think 'complete' and 'the whole thing' are different?"

"Just do it."

"Complete installation commencing. You know, there are a lot of folks who like the sound of my voice; you're obviously one of those smart ones. Why I can..."

I press the mute button and watch the ancillary app display as it indicates the amount completed. When it is almost complete, I unmute it.

"... was completely fried! What a loon. Oh, your installation is complete, ready for setup?"

"Yeah, give it to me."

"Pilot name?"

"Shawn." The screen voice-types it correctly.

There is a pause, then the program says "Shawn?" in Duncan Fisher's voice.

"Yup. Next."

"Banter on?"

"Yes, please."

"Banter termination phrase?"

"Bite m e."

"Confirmed. Duration?"

"One minute."

"No banter mode?"

"Yes, 'Combat mode'."

"Confirmed. Do you wish to run the cockpit security menu?"

"Yes, set up voice authorization."

"Greeting or pass-phrase first?"

"Greeting, use number 14."

"Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

"Confirmed. Further challenges?"

"Yes, number 71."

"You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

"Bite m e, Duncan."

"Confirmed. Further challenges?"

"No."

"Welcome ack?"

"Yes, standard."

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"That works for me."

"Confirmed. Continue with security menu?"

"Yes..."

We go through the complete setup, my program and I. Duncan has "been with" since '26, cockpit doesn't seem the same without him. Once the installation is complete, I return the chip to my glas case. This bird still has that new ship smell, need to correct that soon, but at least I will feel more at home now that Duncan will be there to launch with me when I follow Kree'Gna out.

…..

"I didn't think those things took so much fuel," the attendant monitoring my pumping seems a bit more curious than I would like.

"Yeah, I'm flooding my cargo space, don't you know?"

He looks at me like I must be daft, then catches the implied humor and just shakes his head.

I continue, "I bet they put a larger tank on the new models when we get the afterburner package."

He kinda shrugs while nodding, effectively saying, "Whatever... I could care less as long as you have the credits to pay for it."

I hear the warning beeps and stop fueling. There are several things to do while disconnecting, and I do them all while still under Mr. Nosey's overly watchful eye. He checks that my account pays the station, nods almost in my direction, and heads off to pursue whatever is more interesting than me finishing my preflight.

With the exception of my more powerful sensors and the thruster upgrade I installed a little while ago, the insurance has indeed replaced the entire ship. No, it isn't an M50, but then again, I didn't have an M50 to start with. Somehow, the idea of that sleek Origin racer brings me back to Kree'Gna's Xress... he and I started out all but broke with just one ship between us, my Advocacy provided 315p, and just his knowledge of the Xi'An embassy and consulate courier needs. I don't even remember how we got together in that state... no, wait, I do remember.

I had tried to bounty hunt my way across the sector without thinking about the difference between collecting bounties and repairing equipment shot up while trying to bag the folks those bounties were for. I was sitting in a Covalex speedbump, one quite a bit smaller than this one, trying to decide if I should just sell the bird and use the proceeds to buy a farm somewhere... or maybe even a small deep-water sailboat on Terra. I seem to remember I had ordered the cheapest thing on the menu and gotten something Xi'An; it looked like a cross between week old road-kill and something a cat might offer.

As I sat there wondering what the hell the waiter had brought, who should happen upon my table but a rather hungry young Xi'An who begged for half. Hey, I figured, "Why let food go to waste?" and gave him the whole meal. Let's be honest: the donation gave me a good excuse to order something I could eat and it somehow gave me a friend when I otherwise had none. He had had some kind of trouble with the crew he had been working for, and they had stranded him without pay. He was too proud to send word back home; though I have always wondered that he wasn't too proud to ask if I would share my... er... whatever it was.

Bet you've guessed already, that was a much younger Kree'Gna. Somehow, while he ate, I let myself just talk... comfort from strangers and all that. Heck, I bet if you had asked me, I would simply have said I was getting my money's worth and I sure never expected to see the greenie again. I didn't even think he was listening until he said, "You have fed me and taken me into your confidence. I am honored at such trust from a human. I am named Kree'Gna."

"Oh, um... I'm Shawn Ryan. Pleased to meet you, Kree-Na."

I remember that his expression changed, I now know he was smiling, but then I had no clue. He responded with something like, "I am also honored to know your name, Shawn Ryan. And my name is Kree'... Gna... more glottal stop at the start of the Gna."

I remember how quaint it sounded when he spoke, he seemed to double the first sound in each sentence and the first sound in my name, too... but not his. I understand it a bit better now, but at the time is was my first face to face with one of his kind. I tried the second part of his name again, "Gna?"

"Yes. Kree'Gna."

"Kree'Gna?"

"You learn quickly."

"It's my first Xi'An name."

"You have a Xi'An name?"

I chuckled while thinking this might be harder than it seemed.

"No, no, your's is the first Xi'An name I have learned."

I remember that he made what seemed incongruous sounds that seemed a cross between grunts and pants, now I know they were just part of what laughter sounds like.

"If you do not know many Xi'An, why did you order..." well, he said something there but I'll be shot if I can remember what to tell you... it was at least the name of the 'food' I had originally ordered. Anyway, I had no clue what to tell him, so I just admitted what happened.

Solemnly, he responded, "You have not lied. Again, you have shown greater honor than most of your kind. You said you have a ship; do you have enough fuel to reach the border?"

"The Xi'An border?"

"Yes. If we can get to an embassy or consulate, I will get you work if you will have it."

"Just like that?"

"Well, I would go with you as a partner. When we have made enough to go our own ways, we go."

I thought over my lack of options. "I won't run contraband," I insisted.

"No, just courier contracts. Are you interested?"

"Well, does it pay for more than fuel?"

Again, the grunt/pant thing as he laughed, "Yes, Shawn Ryan, it pays us well."

"Well, then, Kree'Gna, I guess that makes us partners."

We actually flew together for several years, first with him as my copilot and later with him in his own craft. He was always shrewd with his income, while I... er... well, didn't invest wisely when I invested at all. Anyway, we have been friends and sometimes a team many times since... much as this run promises to be.

…..

This is one of those things I never get tired of; I'm sitting about a kilometer off Xenia's lower shipping bays, facing out at the stars. I've done the quick checkout shakedown and everything seems to work, but I haven't called Kree'Gna yet. It is always the same; sitting in the cockpit in space after having been on the ground or otherwise not out here, even if it has only been a few days, and suddenly I'm just an awestruck kid all over again.

Most of the familiar constellations are different here, but the Blazing Banner still reaches across my vision like sand made of billions of fiery embers. Somewhere down and to my right is Earth, Terra is just above my eye-level and almost straight ahead... albeit many dozens of light years out.

"Radio check? Are you asleep, Shawn?" Duncan asks with a rather impatient tone.

"Sure am. You're imagining my answer."

"No, I'm imagining going somewhere."

"I'm enjoying the view."

"Whew... for a minute there I thought you said you were enjoying the view... no, wait... that IS what you said."

"Yup."

"As in not moving."

"Correct."

"Okay, I want to be installed in someone else's ship, you're batty."

"Bite m e."

Silence returns.

Unfortunately, the spell has been broken. I type the keys for each color code onto my right controlglas, finishing just as Duncan speaks up again, "Codes entered for seven color sequences. Now, do you actually mean to use them or should I call for someone to explain them to you?"

"You're in rare form today."

"It is the 16.7.02 upgrade: more banter, more me."

"Ah, well, I guess that works."

"Of course it does. It's me... unlike some pilots I know."

"Open comm one with sequence green-blue."

"Opened."

I key comm one and ask, "Kree'Gna? Are you on the sequence yet?"

Almost as if he has been sitting with his hand on the key, he instantly replies, "Yes, Shawn Ryan. Are we ready to depart now?"

"I'm stationary a kilometer off the main bay. She checks out for simple tests, might as well get to the real shakedown cruise."

"Affirmative. Heading out now."

Almost before I know he is there, the exotic shape of the Xress is floating just above and to my left.

"Transmitting route."

I see the transfer indicator and then the stellar map updates with a clean path. Five jumps out and back to the northwest Terran jumppoint, piece of cake.

"Got it, just remember I only have the one class 4."

"Afterburner?"

"Yup. Extra fuel in the pylons."

"You get your fancy thruster nozzle in?"

"Mounted and ready."

"Then let us roll and rock."

"Rock and roll?"

"Whatever."

There is something of a flash as he accelerates, leaving a glowing fusion trail. Throttle up, I feel the Gs shove me back against the seat. She handles like a 315p, just smells too new. I'll grab something on Terra to freshen her up a bit.

I don't catch him right away, Xi'An seem to handle higher Gs better than we humans and I hate the military style pressure suits... but I still make four and stay in the power curve until I gain on him. At about three hundred meters, I feather the throttle and take a standard wing right, staying roughly as far to his right as I am behind... kinda the far point of an isosceles right triangle.

"First jumppoint in 137.4 stamin (standard minutes)."

"Copy. The new bird is trim and stiff. Stable wing right."

"Very good.

…..

We are making our turn-around jump after receiving some kind of transmission from the vicinity of Shorvu. There is the rush of insane motion, hurricanes of light, tornadoes of colors... along with that ever present sense of evading something. I have the sense of a most complex symphony married to the blistering pace of a maglev bullet train.

Almost before it can be appreciated, it's over.

"Clean here, Go for next."

"Copy, Clean here, go f..." I stop mid sentence and make the call, "Two, no, four pings almost on top of us dead ahead, Burner ready."

"My lead, throttles up."

The Xress pulls quickly away, I have the throttles open and am at two gs before we hear the hail, "Alien vessel, stand to and prepare to be boarded." The three Cutlasses are firing, but rather wildly, they didn't expect us to be running through them. I can't quite make out what the other ship is, but there are muzzle flashes there, too.

"I do think you have pirates on your ass," Duncan remarks.

Without keying, I reply, "Combat mode, Duncan. Aft shields at half."

"Confirmed. Banter off."

I'm at three Gs and we have them trailing as they turn and try to regain ground. My acceleration is still slow compared to the trail ghost of Kree'Gna's Xress, but I'm at four G and still haven't kicked the afterburners. The gentle corrections to keep any long range lasers from testing my shields are barely noticeable.

"Missile launch detected."

"Thanks." I have to feather the throttle until the Gs subside just a bit... okay, down to 3.5. The missiles are getting closer, but I'm not exactly parked right now, either. "Duncan, Alert me when the missiles are at three hundred meters.

"280 meters already."

Now I punch the burners... "HeeHaw!" I yell through the hot general comms for the benefit of our pursuit. They are about to see their prey and their munitions disappear in what will look like a blaze of glory as the missiles melt and detonate in my super-heated burner wash.

"One missile detonation. Correction, two."

"How many more, Duncan?"

"I have just two, threshold is back a ways after the burner."

I let off the burner and recognize that I have neither passed out nor caught Kree'Gna. On our sequence, "So far so good, boss. Two missiles down, two more still in pursuit."

"You are way back there." Kree'Gna offers. "Run out of fuel?"

"Nope, want to roast the darts so no one else gets them by accident."

"Are they onto you yet?"

"The darts or the slugs?"

He laughs over the channel, then, "The slugs, you should have no trouble with the darts."

"Nah, they're amateurs. They were all facing the wrong way, no one prepivoted for pursuit if we broke through. I think..."

Duncan interrupts, "Missile at 300 meters."

"Hang on a minute, Kree'Gna. It's roasting time." With my finger off the comm key, I ask, "Duncan, how far back is the second one?"

"342 and closing."

"As fast as the first."

"They are closing at the same speed."

"Great, let me know when the second one gets to 300."

While I wait, I check the rear view for the other ships, but we're all traveling at full bore and I don't see them.

"Second missile at 300 meters."

"Thank you, Duncan." I kick the burners again, and we likewise lunge forward: I am but a blurry streak across the sky.

"Both missiles have detonated."

"Copy." I leave the burner on until I'm at the 315p's frame max, then let it off. The fuel has held well, I may not need all the extra I put on, but it is a lot nicer to outrun the enemy than come up short.

"We seem to be in the clear," I state to my partner.

"Good, next jump point now 322 stamin."

"Probably three twenty-nine for me."

"No, I am slowing just enough for you to catch me in seven stamin."

"Works for me."

It seems we lucked out, this time through. Where, oh where will the next challenge be?

…..

The Xi'An Embassy is a floating tumble of elliptical shapes, reminding me most of the way some mountains rise behind others. The only thing missing from the scene is a waterfall... well, actually, the way some of the lights link and stretch out, it really takes care of that visual element, too.

The remainder of our trip here was uneventful. These are main lanes and there have been a fair number of Agents and Naval patrols out. I'm keeping a respectful distance from the embassy, casually watching the bay Kree'Gna entered maybe ten minutes ago.

"So, you back to being boring again?" Duncan quips.

"Yup, that's me; boring, boring, boring."

"You can say that again."

"Yup, that's me; boring..."

"Forget I said that, please don't say it again."

I think Duncan's new version is indeed "smarter"... at least the heuristics recognize sarcasm and have comebacks appropriate to even more sophisticated snideness.

"Duncan, please set autopilot to station-keeping, I need to step in back."

"Copy. Position locked in. Gentle-float station-keeping is engaged."

I unbuckle from the seat and stretch my legs. With gravity off, magnets keep me on the floor until I make the head, then the seatbelt does the trick. Feeling better, the bunk calls and I fall for the chance at a quick nap.

"Duncan, wake me if Kree'Gna calls or anything serious comes up."

"Understood."

The gentle sounds of the ship and the occasional thruster firing are a lullaby and the containment sheet is a zero G womb... in moments, my eyes close and I relax.

…..

"Shawn Ryan, are you there?"

I'm half awake, still in the bunk.

"Shawn Ryan, you are being hailed by Kree'Gna." Duncan doesn't exactly shout, but the volume is up enough that short of deafness, I will wake completely... and I'm not deaf.

"Yeah, okay, patch me through."

"Done as requested."

"Kree'Gna? I was taking a nap, let me get back into the seat."

"No problem, Shawn Ryan," comes the reply.

Back in the saddle, "Yeah, boss, what's up?"

"I am required here for at least 72 hours, can you entertain yourself for that long?"

"I'll flash over to the corp island for fuel, grub, and gravity. Want to meet me there or have me back at a certain time?"

"I will meet you there or update you if the situation changes. Is that acceptable, Shawn Ryan?"

"Works for me, Kree'Gna."

"Should you be offered other work, please let me know but don't feel like you need to sit and wait for me. Do you still use the same credits account?"

"Yup."

"Good. Sending payment for your efforts to date... now."

"Thanks. Talk with you soon. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

…..

"Well, aren't you sweet?" the waitress comments more than asks.

I'm on the public orbital platform with the local runners, hangers-on, and riffraff. I've just tossed out a meaningless compliment to this thirty-something woman, but now I almost think she's flirting with me. "Well, Ma'am, whether I am or not, you sure are."

She has a wide smile that almost seems genuine and she is doing what we used to call batting her eyelashes.

"Why thank you, kind sir. Now, what'll you have?"

"That depends..." She is quite attractive, might be worth a risk. "You interested in dinner later?"

Her expression changes to a look I know all too well: condescension. "No offense, I'm sure you're important and all that, but I'm like seriously NOT into old."

"Okkkkaayyyy," I accept the rebuff, I've heard something like it often enough. "How about the Indigoberry pancakes with a side of bacon?"

Her smile returns, "Two strips or four?"

"I'll be bad, give me four. Oh, no syrup on the pancakes, just several bags of 2sweet."

"And anything to drink?"

"Distilled water if you have it."

"We do. Any desert?"

"Nah, the bacon is my indulgence this time."

"I'll get right on it." She smiles and walks off.

My mobi chimes and does it's little vibrating dance. "Yellow?"

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"I have a proposition for you. There is a large contract coming my way that I wish your companionship on, but you would need a faster craft. If I could loan you enough to cover, say, a new 350r after a reasonable trade-in on the 315... would you be interested?"

"I don't know... I hadn't even considered that craft. Would I still be able to keep the tractor beam?"

"You would have to ask the dealer. They might even have a late model used."

"Well, how long would I have to find out?"

"If you can let me know in the next day or so, that would be best."

"I'll get right on it... well, after a meal and some sleep."

"That will be most acceptable. I look forward to your decision. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

My meal arrives and I dig in with gusto. Mouthful follows mouthful, even though there are hardly enough berries to have one in each bite; what flavor there is is appreciated.

Maybe this would be a good juncture to hop down to the plantation and see how things are doing... and maybe pick up some fresh ghost peppers and other spices. Kree'Gna's dig about the lack of profit strikes me as I think about the place. Maybe I could sell it and have enough to get a racer for whatever he has planned and still keep my 315 for less arduous activities.

I kind of miss the runs with my first 315p. Back in those early days, before I knew better, I'd go harvest minerals from the asteroid fields, then try to survive long enough to make it back with my haul. Heck, I even tried Orion once... though if there hadn't been a UEE naval patrol, I wouldn't be telling this story now.

Still, there was so much beauty to enjoy. I really...

"Mind if I join you, pilot?" A tall hairless woman... I think... sits opposite me. Contralto voice and stronger than normal features leave me wondering, even though the outfit is a synth that could be almost painted onto her well proportioned figure.

"Well, it's a free platform. How may I help you?"

"Not having much luck with the waitresses, are you?"

Hmmm... disturbing turn of events. I play it dumb for the moment, "No, she got the order right."

"But not the desired end."

I think I can guess where this is leading, but I'm reticent about having been listened in on. There is a professional look in those eyes and probably not the profession appearances would otherwise suggest.

"Well, I've had a good meal now, so it doesn't matter."

There is a hint of hesitation, I'm not responding as she anticipated. "We could have plenty of time for that to settle. I'm Gloria, by the way."

"Hello, Gloria, folks call me TOG," I reply. "Look, I think I know where this is going, but now that I've stuffed myself I really need to get some sleep... been in the sky too many hours to make it worth either of our time to let this play out."

There is an unexpected shrewdness in her expression and not even a clue of disappointment, "Okay, some other time, then. Have fun, TOG." With that she rises and walks past me. A reflection in my water glass tells me she just keeps walking.

My waitress comes by and while I credit my check, I casually ask, "That Gloria person a regular?"

"Who?"

"The woman who just came to my table?"

"Nope, never seen her before."

"Fair enough, have a good evening."

"It is morning by our clocks."

"Ooops, so it is. Well have a good one anyway."


	3. Chapter 2 - Need For Speed

I feel the distant hint of sea breeze as the dawn light fades to more intense morning sunshine. I lounge against the balcony railing outside my rooms on the little tea plantation I love but have never made credits from. I look out over the rolling rows of evergreen and see the graceful undulations of the Torre Nor uplands; many have found here the best high elevation cultivation property Terra Prime can offer. There is both exceptional solar coverage without becoming arid, the cycle of rains usually at dusk, and the gentle breezes that air dry the leaves by star-rise.

Here my modest tea plantation consists of a nice house and spice garden, quarters for my employees that are somewhat between bunkhouses and individual apartments, and finally 309 hectares of fine camellia sinensis... er, that would be tea plants... imported directly from the Earth island of Sri Lanka.

From below, a younger man calls up, "Hey boss! You on-world for very long?"

"No, Arron, I needed to pick up some papers."

"Got a batch of pepper hearts about dry, don't leave without them."

"Yup. Bonus if they are dragon or better."

"Better, burnt my fingers with some dust."

"Ouch, well, don't want you getting burned."

"Me either. They are in the drying shed by the other spices. Camilla has a chili made up that can't be missed either."

"I'll do that for breakfast."

Camilla is my manager, but she is a mean cook as well when she is in the mood. Her naga pepper laced camarones con chile could substitute for plasma in a pinch, and the hint that I'm landing usually brings it out. Okay, she knows I love nuclear grade spicy foods, maybe I'm not such a bear when I have some. Smart woman, her husband Arron could have done a lot worse.

I clamber down the staircase into the main hall of the house, at one end is the open kitchen... steams and aromas are wafting up from it in a way that makes me all but drool in anticipation.

My foot touches the floor just as Camilla walks in from the pantry with something in a can, looks up at me and waves happily, "You're up, Boss. How was your flight? Did you sleep well? Hungry?" with this last, she raises an eyebrow and grins wickedly.

"In order: long, maybe, and OH YEAH!"

"Well serve yourself, it's hot. Oh, the hummingbirds are back in force; the males are getting all upset over the feeders and the females have been stealing tufts of cotton from the wash."

"Excellent." I pour a small glass of rosé, ladle a heaping bowl full of the fragrant shrimp chili, and walk out to the patio to enjoy the furious hummers as they each try to claim the half dozen sugar feeders we have up all around me.

"You forgot your hat, silly," Camilla chides and I look up to see her approaching with something no pilot will ever see me wearing... a blazing crimson hat with the distant look of a flower facing forward making the brim. It has only one purpose, to entice the hummers to fly up directly in front of me for the fun of watching them so close.

Indeed, it isn't sixty seconds later that one of the males is hovering not 30 centimeters in front of my face... trying to figure out if the huge red "flower" is worth the risk of flying that close to a people. It actually isn't, there isn't anything in it for them, but I really enjoy these times while the chili cools off.

Camilla finally comes out and sits down. "Looks like you have a new ship. Old one break?"

"Nah, got shot up."

"You should take better care of yourself. What would we do without you?"

"Run the place as well as you already do."

"Ahhmm. I would like to talk with you about that, boss." This sounds ominous.

I pull the hat off and place it on the table so I can concentrate on Camilla. "What's up, Ma'am?"

"Well, we have been saving up and there is a hundred hectare plot of coffee available in Sol Terraces. It's kinda rundown and we would have to learn about coffee from scratch, but maybe it would give Arron and I a future of our own." She looks like she hopes I won't get mad and I oblige her.

"Well, that works well, I was thinking about selling half or even all this place off but I didn't want any of you to be on the wrong end of the deal."

"You are selling? What if we wanted to buy half?"

"You do know I don't make a profit here."

She smiles, "You pay too much and sell for too little. How do you think we could afford to save so much?"

"Touché. How much can you afford?"

"Let me get our books." She bounds away gleefully.

…..

"She sure is a beauty, isn't she?"

I turn from looking at the exterior of a used 2940 Origin 350r in the official factory sales facility to face an eager looking scoundrel who happens to have an official salesman's badge. Maybe I need to start this out right... "Look, I hate pushy sales folks and if you are or become one, I'll take my business elsewhere." I would really like to hurt most salespeople, but that would have undesirable consequences... well... in civilized space, anyway.

"Sure, sure, no problem, I don't like sales people either." He smiles, presumably he thinks this intimation will help us bond so he can sell me a lot more ship than I need. "But she still is a lovely ship, don't you agree."

"Yeah." I'm really here to buy without all the hassles, maybe monosyllabic answers will help him understand that.

"Want a look inside?" he grins with that faux conspiratorial look.

I nod and he fiddles with his glas for a moment. The side hatch opens and a retractable stair stretches out for the ground near our feet.

Inside, she is laid out like mine, though perhaps more spare to help reduce weight. The consoles and glas options are as nice as mine, though I do notice a little wear on the seat leather and the yoke grips are a little shiny.

"She is the fastest in class, and of all Origin's models, only the M50 class is faster."

I click through the stats glas and try to ignore the sales mumbo-jumbo.

"I'm sure you saw the double Hammer HM 4.3s, and the Gangleri..."

I finally have to interrupt, "Look, you are sounding like a pushy salesman. Do us both a favor and get me clearance to take it for a spin."

"Oh, I have authority to do that... as long as your palm passes the scan, I can buckle in to go along, and you agree not to take her beyond the inner lunar orbit."

"Where's your glas?"

He holds it out and I lay my right hand palm down on the interface. There is a brief blue halo and then a quiet 'ding!'

"Well, already qualified on the frame with well over 60,000 hours logged in a 315p... no warrants from the Advocacy or Navy... yup, you look good to go, let me strap in."

I don't normally spend a lot of time playing in the atmosphere, and now is no different. I push her to a steady three Gs acceleration until max Q, then casually comment over my shoulder, "I do hope you are sitting down and strapped in; if not, now is the time to say so."

From the popup seat almost directly behind me, his voice comes back, "Already in, let'r rip."

I punch up to four and feel the seat take my back like a lover. I dial in the inner lunar orbit and set a warning, then arc to cruise above the Terran atmosphere floating below. "Hold on to your lunch," I warn briefly, then punch the throttle and set a tight corkscrew as we streak across the heavens. I see the marked ring approach and hit the banking thrusters, we are at six Gs for a few seconds, but then back to clean fight.

It's almost no time before I am again approaching that invisible line in space and turn her into what would be called a barrel roll if we did it in the atmosphere. Tighter I pull the loop as we continue a second time, then I hit the retros and spin her rump down. While it's a trick I've used in combat before, it seems my passenger wasn't quite prepared. There is an urgent sound of a bag opening, followed by the distinct indications of retching.

"You okay back there?" I ask, hoping my smile isn't too obvious in my tone.

"Uhhh huuunh."

"Good. Now I'll show you some real..."

"No, no, I'm not okay..." he chokes, "Just take us back, okay? Please?!"

"No more pushy salesman stuff?"

"No, no sales stuff at all. You got questions, ask. I'll be quiet as the dead until you say otherwise."

"Okay, we'll go back."

I look down and notice the rolling Torre Nor and the sea not too far beyond; sunset is coming for the plantation, might even be there already. I still have a home down there, just not as much of one as yesterday. I keep my apartment in the big house, have the majority share in the hangar and landing pad, and retain a half share in the land and the plantation profits... if there ever are any; everything else is now Camilla and Arron's.

On the ground once again, the kid kisses the concrete the moment he steps off the ladder. I think I've seen sheets whiter, but only a few. I walk to the showroom office and wait. Instead of my original minder, a gray-haired man with a shrewd expression approaches. "I understand you took Timmy up for a test in the 350."

I nod, "Yup."

"Well, it seems he needs to have a wardrobe adjustment and won't be back for a while. He did tell me you don't like salesmen, so I figured I would just save us the dance and come talk with you myself."

"Manager?"

"Yes, sir." He nods slightly, we both know where we are and why.

"Care to tell me why we can't seat you in a new '43?"

"Well, unless my looks are better than I've always been told, the '43 is probably a third again more than the '40. I'm used to a 315 and suspect I'll need to get used to her. Besides, this is for a new contract, breaking the bank isn't on my list of fun things to do or I'd be drooling over that one," I quietly confess, pointing at the sleek shiny M50 class whatever parked not forty meters away. "That help explain it?"

"Yeah, I guess it does. Courier?"

"Let's just say that she'll get wing tanks and an afterburner for when she needs to keep up."

"With what?" he queries, a rather unbelieving expression has overcome his features.

"Xress."

His eyes get big and he replies, "Oh."

"So, how much on the '40?"

"Well, let's see..."

…...

Bargaining with people trained for it is the pits. I'm sure I paid too much, but between Kree'Gna's line of credit and my plantation proceeds, I actually have two ships now. I'm sitting in the still unnamed 315p, just finished buckling in.

"Duncan?"

"Yes?"

"Would you call up the second license upgrade for you?"

"Why, want me to talk to myself?"

"No, getting a second craft and don't want either to be without your brilliant insight."

"You know, you're a lot smarter than you look."

"Thanks."

"Actually, that wasn't a compliment."

"Yeah, well, the last mirror self-destructed and I'm delusional."

"Oh, good one. A self-aware human."

"Just get the price. Oh, and... Bite m e."

While Duncan researches I key the green/blue covered sequence for Kree'Gna, "Ryan to Kree'Gna."

It's quiet and though Duncan is still pouting on his verbal time out, he displays the amount and the options. I order the second copy and am about to key up again...

A rather sleepy sounding Kree'Gna answers, "Shhawnnn Rryannn?"

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

He seems to wake quickly and replies as if he had never been asleep, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Sorry to wake you, just a quick update. I have a '40 350r, thanks in no small part to your assistance."

"Ah, good. When will the craft be tuned?"

"That depends. They're giving her a new pair of burners and wing tanks, and expect to have a tractor beam in from their parts house in the morning. Current estimate is she'll be ready in 26 hours, but it could be 17 if I skip waiting on the tractor beam. I asked for my usual paint job to be loaded into the visual switch, but figured I would check with you about any special glyphs you might want loaded for Xi'An space."

"Yes, of course. You will want the first two of my formal glyphs, then your goose and croise where the third glyph would normally be. Did you say you will be loading them to your usual switch?"

"Yup."

"Perhaps an extra skin in my colors would be a good addition for our space. You can retain your goose and croise, but follow our standards otherwise. Would that be acceptable?"

"Yup. Don't want anyone getting upset."

"I will send an update for yours and a skin for ours with your decals in place. Mind if I get on it after sleep?"

"Nope, you rest, just wanted to make sure the time frame met with your requirements."

"Yes. Go ahead and get the tractor for it, that should be fine timewise." I can hear the sleep return in his voice, "Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"Sleep well, my friend. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

…..

I sit in the dark, my apartments at the plantation give me a restful ease that I will no doubt be short on for a while to come. The 315 is parked in the solitude of my relatively spacious Aeroview hangar, in the morning I'll catch some public shuttles back to the showroom.

But right now, I just listen to the dark night air and let gravity pull me into my bed. The sheets are cool against my skin and there are distant birds speaking into the night of love and home to remind me that this is as close as I will likely ever be to either: no love but at least home.

I am a star child... fated to thrive on the machines that bring me the wonder of the heavens. The melody of the Banner's billions, flung out as a carpet to ennoble the dangers we take upon ourselves.

Hmmm, melody... almost forgot...

Bounding out of bed, I go to my home glas, mount a fresh chip, and load my entire music library onto it. The hours floating aboard will go a lot better if I can set my moods with tunes and songs. I had forgotten to take them when I got the replacement 315 and just the run back here with it was a drudge. Besides, I can dance my craft much better with the right beat going.

"Ding!" it softly chimes when all is loaded. I move to the chair where my flightsuit is draped, slipping it into a chip pocket. Finished with my distraction, I return to the bed.

This is the only time I get to be relaxed, letting gravity and natural breezes work their wonders on my weary body and bare skin.

…..

I wake to a chill darkness, the smell of jasmine from the garden wafting through the... something is wrong.

"Mr. Ryan, are you awake yet?"

There is a woman in my room, she is fairly close, and I don't recognize her voice.

"Say nothing, Mr. Ryan. I know from your breathing that you are awake. You will not like my response if you cry out for help."

Without further movement, I ask the dark, "May I ask the meaning of this visit?"

"We were unable to have a discussion a few days ago, we need to have it now."

Her voice is so low it is almost a tenor... "Would that make you Gloria?"

"Yes, that is the name I gave you."

"What is your real name?"

"If I gave you another name it would remain meaningless since you would not be sure it is mine. Gloria will do for now."

Weight on the bed shifts and I realize she is sitting on the sheet not a half meter from me.

"Do you mind? I'm not dressed."

"You don't have anything of interest for me to care to notice, I am not here for your body. Well, not in that manner."

"May I turn over without having you do whatever you were threatening to do?"

She laughs, "Yes, you may even sit up. I will turn on a light."

"Not with me naked, you won't. You want the light on, let me at least have some pants."

"Demanding, aren't we?" she chuckles. "Okay, just know the route to your craft is covered."

"I'm not in shape to outrun you and we both know it." I locate my pants with a toe and manage to slip them on while keeping the jewels covered.

I continue, "I must admit, my curiosity is growing; I though you Advocacy types were done with me after your bungle way back when."

"I am not with the Advocacy."

Hmmm, this isn't the Navy's style... gangsters? "I've told a lot of folks that I won't smuggle. If that's what you're here for, you have the choice to leave, kill me now, or expect me to try to do the same to you."

"Mr. Ryan, we are not a syndicate either. We simply track information."

"Well, then you have the wrong man."

"You are a business associate of Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna of the Xi'An."

Deputy Diplomat? Wow, I never knew... no use letting her know that, though. "Kree'Gna was a partner and sometimes hires me for wingman."

"Like what he wants you to do in your new 350?"

My life is an open book, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"We wish to come to an arrangement with you."

"I'm not betraying anyone, and you have still not answered my questions."

She clicks the light on and I see a laser pistol in her right hand. "You are not in a position to demand any answers." Unlike her attire in the restaurant, she is in a black-ops jumpsuit that shows none of her features other than her square jaw, angular face, bald head, and uncompromising expression.

I decide that it is worth drawing a line, "Then you don't need me for anything, do you?"

"Do you value your citizenship?"

"Not enough to cooperate with a gangster. Who else but the Advocacy acts like this?"

"We are a small group that keeps track of things in all government branches and UEE space. Okay... occasionally outside of it as well."

"While threatening citizens and failing to identify yourselves."

"You really have a death wish, don't you?" she chides.

"I spent nine years in an RRS 'camp' because of people like you... believe me, there is not much you can threaten me with that I haven't seen or endured before."

"That was not us. We are merely watchers."

"With a laser pistol in hand and someone covering the route to my ship? Not exactly what the word 'watch' used to mean, is it?"

She sighs, more for effect I think, and responds, "We are not asking you to spy on anyone, just leave your nose cam on... we will even mount better sensors and upgrade your cam. They and any communications simply mirror onto secondary storage. We access that storage when you are close enough. If they order you to turn off your sensors and cam, do as you are told. Otherwise, what you see and hear is what we see. We will not access your encryption, nor any other part of your computer systems or any glas you have aboard that might compromise you or your companion. We just see and hear what you do."

"I'm not good at keeping secrets, and I'm a crappy liar."

"Then just tell your friend exactly what we want to do. We are not trying to gain secrets, just knowledge."

"I can tell Kree'Gna?"

"Yes. We just want to watch. He can tell you when you need to turn off the gear so we don't see anything he considers out of bounds."

"Why don't you just send a craft of your own?"

"I didn't say we haven't."

"This makes no sense at all."

"Then you agree?"

"I didn't say that."

"We will not even break into Duncan, you will have to be there to authorize our tech to install our components. You're enough of a tech yourself to spot if we try anything we have not discussed."

This is moving too fast... she presumes I'm agreeing. "What if Kree'Gna says 'No'?"

"Then we will not install anything... but we will want to debrief you every time you return."

"You are back to assuming I have no choice."

"Not if you want to get a Constellation or that M50LX you were drooling over in the showroom today."

"Who..." I shake my head and finish, "Never mind."

She is grinning.

"How long would I have to do this to get either of those birds?"

"Well, well... agreeing, now, are we?"

"Royal 'we' is very poor manners."

"Would you rather we had sex and I blackmail you?"

"No. You aren't my type, anyway."

"Strong women bother you?"

"Bald women bother me. Pushy women aren't on my hit parade. Women who like threatening me are also a huge turnoff. Not to mention that I'm not exactly a stud to perform on demand for someone I'm not turned on by."

Her expression changes and she nods, "I can see why the Librarian likes you. You are brutally honest, even about yourself."

"Who are you?"

"Do we have a deal?"

"If Kree'Gna allows it."

"I am a humble Reporter. If you are addressed by someone who Gloria the Reporter refers to you, ask what they want. They should answer, 'I'm working on a story about a Roman sundial and Gloria said you know where to look'."

"Should I be writing this down?"

"You aren't an idiot, I've seen your scores. You will recognize the phrase when you hear it."

"How will I contact you when I know if Kree'Gna approves."

"Stand in front of your craft with your hands on your hips. We will know and you will be contacted immediately."

"And if I just take off?"

"If you ever come back, you will find me sitting there again."

She reaches up and clicks the light off. I stand and wait.

It has been two minutes and still she hasn't said anything.

"So what is this about?"

Silence.

I reach over and light the bedside leds... and realize she is gone.

…..

BREEEEEEE! BREEEEEE...

I slap the sleep button on the alarm pad and roll over. There's a lot of daylight out... "Okay," I sigh, turn my legs over the bedside, and swat the stupid alarm off before it can regain it's bearings and startle me.

I'm awake... but with that uneasy feeling like strange dreams have haunted me. The temptation to believe the visit from the tall bald woman was just in my head is dispelled when I see a plain white paper card sitting on my flight-suit; in bold black letters it reads simply, "a Reporter was here" and on the back a handwritten note that adds to the thought, "just in case you thought it was a dream" and a capital "G" with a slight flourish.

I slip it into a side pocket on my mobiglas shell, figuring it's just another something for me to show Kree'Gna.

I have to wonder if he will cancel the contract and want his money back for the 350. Can't even say that I would blame him, I mean why should he trust me now?

It does seem odd that she would tell me to tell him. I wonder if she is trying to get me killed or something. Maybe she just wants to plant a seed of distrust between us... that would be the pits.

…..

My 315 is still covered and seems undisturbed. After pulling the tarps back a bit, I key the access code and the near side door opens. Nothing seems disturbed.

"Duncan?"

"Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

"You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

"Bite m e, Duncan."

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"Duncan, do you show any attempt to tamper with your systems or this craft since I locked it yesterday?"

After a slight pause he answers, "Unable to confirm, there is a data error for a sixteen minute period at 0207 this morning."

They were here. "Please scan your software for checksum errors."

"Scanning."

In the silence I know I am up against professionals here.

"Yes, two sections with base software checksum good but installation checksum errors."

"Can you sandbox those sections without endangering your functionality?"

"No, they are main process sections."

"Please scan the main installation user options for errors."

"No errors."

I mount a chip and say, "Please dump settings to this."

"Done," he replies almost before I finish speaking.

"Talk with you later," I say, but I'm typing the voice program exit command. The glas panel indicates Duncan has ended. Next is the wipe command, it will delete Duncan entirely. Surely they bugged the whole thing, is it wise to contact Kree'Gna?

I launch the standard communications program, but execute a little trick to open a true sequence... I start with green/blue.

"Ryan to Kree'Gna."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren. This line is not secure. Please do the dance."

"The dance" is our code for initiating a resequence pulse that will set our encryption to something new that he alone will have control over.

"Is the glass half full?"

"Yup," I reply as I hear the scramble chirp and know it has changed.

"Why are we playing the game, Shawn Ryan?"

"I had a disturbing visit last night from someone who identified herself as a..."

He interrupts, "Reporter."

This is unexpected. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"My last human escort had the same, though he did not say so until we caught him."

"Caught him? That doesn't sound pleasant."

"It was not. But you have told me before you could do anything. Are you betraying your honor?"

"Nope. She actually told me to tell you." I tell him everything I can remember about my experience, finishing with, "And my 315 was hacked, don't know how bad."

He sounds somber, "Whatever we say now, they are hearing, even with the encryption. We will talk later about it."

"I'm guessing you don't want me along anymore."

He laughs, "Not at all, my friend. In fact, now I want you along all the more."

"Oh..."

He laughs again and says, "I will explain all when we can talk in private. By the way, buy yourself a new flight-suit just before you are ready to leave. Maybe that black ops kevlar and leather one you always talk about... I'll cover the expense."

"Wow." It takes just a moment for this unexplained generosity to set off something like alarm bells in my head; "Am I getting myself into something I don't want to be part of?"

"I think you are already there, my friend. Call me on green/blue when you have your normal install on the 350. Oh, and let them 'install' whatever they want when they contact you."

"Okaayyy."

"We will speak later. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"Agreed, later. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

Before I exit the 315p, I type the craft command to initiate a complete restore to factory for all software and systems, knowing I'll have to reinstall Duncan next time.

…..

The shop at the Origen dealership is still working on the tractor beam install when I arrive. I have no idea who I will be doing it for, but I face away from the 350 and put my hands on my hips.

This is about as exciting as watching grass grow. It's already been several minutes just standing here like a moron. I turn distractedly and almost walk into a man about my height.

"Gloria the Reporter said you might give me an interview."

What was it I was supposed to ask... hmmm, oh, yeah, "Well, what do you want?"

"I'm working on a story about a Roman sundial and Gloria said you know where to look."

That sure sounds right.

"Well, I guess you do what you have to and I watch."

His expression replies with an evil grin as he confirms, "Sure, follow me."

…..

The comm panel is off and the are already several patch links plugged in. He works methodically and seems almost uninterested in my presence.

"Have you installed Duncan yet?"

"No."

"He will work better if you allow us to upgrade a couple sections."

"No thanks. You already tinkered with the 315, didn't you?"

For the first time since he boarded, he looks me in the eye, "You are observant."

"Yes, and I don't like having things hacked."

"We merely listen."

"Memory damaged, systems hacked, and a 'Reporter' with a laser pistol. Seems like 'listen' is a wee bit off of the standard definition."

His eyes never waver, "Your friend doesn't mind, why should you?"

"Because I wrongfully did time and still have no clue who you folks are. Basically, I don't really trust you."

"Very good. Trust no one, not even your 'friend'."

"I'll pick my friends and whom to trust for myself, thank you very much."

He smiles, it is a vacant expression... he is past the conversation and now turns back to the panel without even a dismissal.

Something clicks and I realize that the panel he is playing behind already has things that are not original equipment. "You might as well just leave it. We both know you've already installed what you want and this is just for show."

He looks back at me and says, "Of course it is for show. You have probably been recording us all along anyway."

It pains me to admit to myself that I hadn't thought of that. Then again, I'm not a spy... am I?

…..

The suit tailor on the corner of 72nd and MoCash is THE best in the business. Her name is Jurdi and she is both cute and brilliant. Were she single and twenty years older, I would ask her out. Okay, that is a lie, I would propose to her. Fortunately for both of us, I have never said anything of the sort and she doesn't hold an occasional flirt against me.

"Kevlar and leather," I state in answer to her question.

"With or without?" She means body armor sewn into the suit.

"With if it isn't too spendy."

"I have a kev and abs that is light and still will stop that first round."

"Black?"

"Well, in your size I have a dark navy blue with black kev patches on the rubs. Take me a day to knock out an all black."

"Well, guess I should try the blue one."

"Follow me," she says and leads me into a large storage room lined with suit racks in multiple tiers. Half way up a staircase she turns. "I have a black-ops with the same layout, but no leather. It would suit your style better." She leans close and whispers in my ear so quietly that I barely hear over my own breathing, "Besides, it's harder to bug."

As she backs enough to look me in the face, I nod and answer, "Yeah, I guess you know me well enough, lets look at that one first."

I wonder if that is why Kree'Gna wants me in another suit... this one may be bugged.

…..

I look down at the new suit laying in its box; the same box Jurdi had insisting on it remaining in until I was aboard... heck, she even wrapped it for me.

Jurdi is an amazing woman. I know she used to teach at UPARQ on Persei, but why she left that rarefied air to make suits here in Prime has never made sense. She is maybe five centimeters shorter than I, has flame red hair and a very nice figure made all the more unexpected by the fact that she is at least in her mid forties. Of course, one could never tell that by her face, let alone her dancing eyes or perfect smile. Yeah, if a lowlife like me could ever reach that far above my paygrade, she's one I'd like to take the chance with.

The green/blue sequence crackles to life, "Kree'Gna is contacting Shawn Ryan."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren.

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Are you in orbit yet?"

"Just about to depart. Still don't have a shakedown done on her."

"Very good. Do you have confidence that she will perform acceptably or do you need a few hours to burn off a tank or two?"

"I would like a quick turn around the system."

"Then that is what you should do. Call me when you are ready and we can talk while you fuel. I am sure you have questions."

"Yeah, guess so, my friend. Maybe I should ask up front: I'm not being asked to betray my people, am I?"

"No, my friend. Only to be honest in your service."

"Works for me. I'll call when I have a bit more confidence in her."

"Give her a fast name, then."

"Will do. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Until then. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

I close the box, suit still inside, adjust my current suit, and take the big chair.

"Ready boss?" Duncan asks.

I smile and pull the yoke towards me. Various craft glas move to my reach, the ship coming to life, eager to take flight. I adjust the reach on the panels to my right and my seat position related to the rudder pedals. Behind me, the power-plant hums as I raise the thrusters to hover. Even more than the 315 did, this bird feels alive...

…..

I'm out past the satellite perimeter, no real G load so far. I clear the orbital line I drew... when was that... couldn't be yesterday, could it? Hmmm, guess it was. Anyway, time to dust off a few cobwebs.

"Duncan, please report systems status and prep all systems for running trials."

"Configured and ready, drive, thrusters, and afterburners all green."

I push the throttle up and we are moving... three Gs almost instantly, I feather it at four... no afterburners yet, this is just main engine thrust. I reach max in far less time than the 315, gravitational forces dropping off as the acceleration fades... now it's time to punch it! Both afterburners kick in with a deep throated growl I feel more than hear and I'm back at four Gs in a heartbeat. This is addictive... she is a vanishing ghost as we race across the system.

The Far Side 'track' has a slalom course used by Cup and Stellar Grand Prix pilots, I wonder if I can get clearance to try the course.

I close the burners, throttle back a touch, and instruct, "Duncan, open channel to the Far Side course control."

"Done."

"Terran 4009.714 to Far Side."

A bored voice replies, "Yeah, 714, you want a spin at the course, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yeah, well, nobody out there right now. Two thousand credits and you have a two pass run at it. You got something that won't take all day?"

"350r with a nice ab package."

"Good, just understand that Hammy will be in later with a strip-down, can't have you clogging up the track. I call you off the run, you abort, understood? Also, any injury, loss of use, or death is on you or no deal."

"Understood. If she can't handle this, I'm in real trouble out there." While I know he can't see me gesture at the blackness above me, I'm sure he understands. "Duncan, please transfer 2000 credits when you receive the link." Keying back onto the channel, "Ready for your cred link."

Duncan reports, "Link received and credits transferred."

"You should have them now."

"Um... no, noth... okay, there they are. You want a straight race, or to come in hot?"

"Hot works best for me."

"Sending course and the green line link now."

My sensors indicate a green target, "Duncan, targets to HUD, please."

The target shows as well as the course ring beacons. "HUD active, gonna give it some juice now?" Duncan asks.

"Yup. Combat mode."

"Combat mode confirmed."

I float her into the lane and am flooded with a huge surge of adrenaline.

Bing! Indicates the green ring is crossed... throttles up, burners on and WOAHHH... she is the proverbial bat out of hell! 4.2G and I kick the pressure side of the suit on. 5G and I feel almost as if I am the bird as she powers through the dips and shifts. I back off a bit as I come out of a particularly high performance turn with the colors all gone, but they return as I adjust the throttle more in keeping with human tolerances.

Almost before I know it, I've crossed the green line and am into my second lap. I play a bit more with the corners, she blazes out of them much more precisely than the 315 does. This is so incredible!

Ahead, the starting beacon has turned into a purple one... Bong! As I cross it, the rest of the course vanishes and I'm just out in space.

"Pretty good time for a rookie," the controller opines. "The Terran Open on the Cup circuit has trials in a couple months, might be worth considering a spin in the amateur division... good return on the credits if you can place in a race."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the run."

"Yeah, sure," his boredom has returned. "Hasta la pasta."

"End combat mode."

"No problem, boss. What's next?"

"Ghost."

Duncan obviously has no context, "Excuse me?"

"Her new name is Ghost because with this speed she just vanishes."

"Interesting choice." Duncan pauses, then, "You know how that translates into Xi'An?"

Ooops, "No..."

"Ghost only appears to translate as 'Sagrathe'... according to the Compendium Xi'An, it has the connotation of an evil entity."

That might be awkward... "How about the Irish for ghost, 'taibhse'?"

"Searching..." Duncan whistles while the connection to the database is made, "Taibhse, no there seems to be nothing in Xi'An to link to it other than the translations into English."

"Works for me."

"Of course, since it rhymes with 'babes' and we all know how much of a chic magnet you are..."

"Bite m e."


	4. Chapter 3 - Expect The Unexpected

How one approaches the Xi'An Embassy at Terra Prime makes a huge difference in how it looks. The orbital platform lies at Terra Prime's L2, and the side resembling mountains faces both the planet and Terra's Sol. From my current vector on the shadow side, however, only the longest four show, resembling nothing so much as long thin eggs clumped together with the longest in the center. There's a very large cargo craft docked to the next longest structure and the silhouette of something perhaps military docked to one of the 'eggs' just out of sight.

I've been directed to land in the main containment bay, a huge cavity in the longest structure. As I get closer to the well lit hollow, it seems it must have been designed for much larger craft. Crossing the threshold I confirm the appearances: my little 350 is dwarfed by cranes and scaffolding. I set her down amid a lit landing pattern and feel retaining jaws latch to the landing gear.

Several Xi'An approach me as I disembark; they are mostly well armed military types, but at least Kree'Gna himself leads them.

Greetings follow though I note that none of the party are introduced... they must be here either as just a show of force or at someone else's orders for him to violate what would otherwise be presumed etiquette.

"The Diplomat welcomes you to Xi'An space and offers you a gift of these flight boots. Courtesy dictates you should wear them at our meeting to follow... and please tell me you have better garments... a suit or at least a newer flight suit to wear with them."

"Well, no suit per se but I do have a nice new flight suit."

"Excellent! Please prepare now so we may speak with the Diplomat and counsel."

Back in the ship I notice that the flight boots are of a strong charcoal colored leather that we call 'Dragonskin' made from who knows what that the Xi'An hunt or raise deep in their space. I slough off my old flight suit and don the new black one. Jurdi outdid herself with it, the interior lining is cloud-like and very pleasant to my skin.

Suited and booted, I return to the waiting group and am escorted into the Embassy proper. The winding corridors seem more organic somehow... less sharp edges and more smooth surfaces, with lighting integrated and also variable. Here and there we pass others, most of whom offer a slight bow probably intended towards Kree'Gna.

Finally, we enter a busy and well lit hall leading towards a cavernous chamber.

Following Kree'Gna's lead, I stride into the hall, struck immediately by the honeycomb-like far wall, transparent enough over much of the surface to allow a clear view of the Terran sun and the shadow of Terra Prime itself. Perhaps this is the long window I thought reminded me of a waterfall. On we stride and I notice the guards have fallen back, it's just the two of us now. At the far side of a raised dais, Kree'Gna slides open a portal and we enter a conference type room that is maybe twenty meters long by ten wide. It is dominated by a massive table that looks a lot like hewn stone.

There are two Xi'An waiting in the room... correction, there is a third in the shadows in the far corner.

The caste markings on the creature most obviously in charge are those of the Emperor's family, the "Imperial NestLine" as they call it, and I join Kree'Gna in bowing deeply... as is proper. The voice is deep and resonant as she offers, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. We are delighted that you have accepted our humble gifts and to have you honor our persons with your presence."

It's a princely greeting and for a moment I'm dumbfounded to be addressed so. Without her name, however, I am stuck, to reply without it would be an offense.

She smiles and continues, "Please see my naval councilor Ana Xis and my intelligence councilor, Ksan Ko'Kree. I am Athas Mgren, Diplomat of the Empire to the residents of the Terra system in the name of Emperor Kray. I serve as local adjunct to Torsi Leelk, Diplomat to the UEE."

Now it is my turn and I respond with the best Xi'An I know, "Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren. Mahhragna ith ilxag ('I am too humble for such honors'... or something like that)." I do hope I haven't failed some convention or other, but just in case I got it wrong, "I have never been so honored by the Xi'An, I am but a humble pilot of no caste and I have no gift worthy of your kindnesses and courtesy."

I glance at Kree'Gna and realize he is smiling... as is the Diplomat and the naval councilor. The intel character, however, still sits quietly watching.

"You are studying our customs," the Diplomat seems to be enjoying the interaction, "And you seem to have learned some of them well. Are you willing to converse honestly and openly about what we are offering and asking for?"

"Yes, Athas Mgren."

She nods and turns to Kree'Gna, "Please explain to Shawn Ryan our plan."

"For many years now, we have known that there is a deep shadow organization within your empire. Strangely, it seems all but unknown to even most of your government... we know that this group covets information. We have studied even your senate's budgets and not found anything to imply another covert organization to match what the Advocacy was during your dictatorship or what the OES is now. For those two organizations we have already found ways to watch their actions in Xi'An space. Until recently we had not had reason to believe anything further was more than just a rumor. Are you with me so far, Shawn Ryan?"

"Yup..." ooops, "Er, yes, Kree'Gna."

"I have been honored with courier runs of great import and to ease passage in UEE space, I often hire a pilot such as yourself. My last pilot seemed to have been a trusted ally, until we accidentally scanned his craft at a Rihlah security checkpoint. He had advanced intelligence gathering gear installed and active. We questioned him," for the first time I notice the intel councilor smile, "And found out about the Reporter who had recruited him. He also spoke of a person called an 'Interviewer' who appears to be skilled at interrogations."

Again, Ksan Ko'Kree is grinning... well what he is doing is the Xi'An version of it, trust me.

"Because of our history together, I hoped to ask you to take my wing and help us understand.

"So why all the subterfuge?"

Finally, the intel officer stands and walks forward to the table. He has only the Eye glyph on his collar, I think that is the Seer's caste or something like that. I also note that of the four he is the only "dino"... that is, his features are the most lizard-like. "We believe that there are some within official UEE circles who wish information and see no problems in employing unofficial means of getting it. While the role Kree'Gna hired your predecessor for should not have drawn so much attention, we have recently discovered the attention was there. We can only presume that there is more to their watchfulness than we understand."

"Indeed," the Diplomat follows his thought, "We wish to learn more of what they are looking for. His Imperial Highness, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray has authorized a special contract for you that will allow you to serve as Kree'Gna's wing until we can better understand their goals. Is this acceptable?"

"So now would I be a spy or what?"

All four laugh and Kree'Gna manages to say, "No, Shawn Ryan. You would be yourself. Be as honest with them as you are with me, and in turn be as equally honest with us," here he gestures around the room, "As you are with them."

The intel lizard is making what for a Xi'An is the equivalent to humans shaking our heads 'no' about something... and he suddenly bursts into a rather impassioned speech in one of the many Xi'An languages. Unfortunately, it is one I'm not even remotely familiar with, or it is just the common one and my vocabulary is woefully unprepared to follow him. Either way, the other three are focused on him and occasionally glance my way. The Diplomat chuckles, does that Xi'An grin thing, and gestures the impassioned one towards me.

Turn towards me, he does. "Gzath Ix'ala nox isha?" he seems to query, but all I can do is look towards Kree'Gna with that 'what did he say?' look. Kreen'Gna and the Diplomat laugh and look back at the inquisitor. "Look at me," he orders in clear English, then again seems to ask, "Gzath Ix'ala nox isha?"

"Please forgive me," I start, "But I haven't learned enough vocabulary to understand what you have just said, except that it sounds like a question."

He seems disappointed, but I notice Kree'Gna chuckle a bit. "It is not important that you understand it. Different question: do you know what the Miscellaneous Archive Research Committee does?"

"Um... research in libraries? Pay for others to do research? I don't really know."

He seems to think a moment, then pulls up something from his equivalent to a glas. "Why do you not take care of your natural..." he seems to be searching for a word, looks over at Kree'Gna and says, "Mix?"

"Teeth."

"Chash'ambosoy (something close to 'good enough'), Kree'Gna." He turns and asks, "Why do you not take care of your natural teeth?"

Where did that question come from? "Excuse me," I say while I try to remember his name, "Ksan Kroh'Kree..." I see Kree'Gna shake his head and stop. "Please forgive me, I fear I have mispronounced your honorable name, please grant me a rehearing of it."

He looks at me, head cocked to one side as if seeing something unexpected, then answers, "Ksan Ko'Kree."

"Ksan Ko'Kree?"

He nods and seems a bit less hostile.

I try again, "Excuse me, Ksan Ko'Kree, but for my kind I am getting old. Our teeth wear out, especially if we have had horrible experiences with dentists and not the best food choices."

He looks at something and then asks, "Why is a dentist a horrible experience?"

"I don't do pain very well anymore, sir."

"But you are missing five teeth and you have many metal things in others. Do not your dentists correct these things?"

"Yeah, if I happen to be unconscious."

"Why would such matter, Shawn Ryan?"

I wonder how I can explain the nightmares from oral surgeries in the RRS compound, performed by sadistic psychopaths with pretend diplomas, lies, and little to no pain reduction? How can I admit that one of the few people I used to dream of performing the most gruesome cold blooded murder on was one of those dentists? What equivalent could they have to that recurrent sense of being really just a kid the first time I endured that, or how any time since that I have ventured to sit into a dentist's chair that the same horrible feelings come up and threaten to turn me into a wild thing.

I glance around and realize that they are all now very intent on me, even Kree'Gna. I need to answer, but can't even think of a proper way to phrase it. "Look, I was tortured by dentists when I was much younger and have never been able to shake my irrational fear of any of them... even ones I know have the best intentions."

The Diplomat says something to Ksan Ko'Kree and he looks back at her and seems to agree.

He finally says, "I accept that you are human and I do not always understand your fears about such things... but I respect that you have admitted them to me, Shawn Ryan."

"Thank you, Ksan Ko'Kree."

He steps back and bows towards the Diplomat and Kree'Gna. The latter also bows, then turns to me and speaks, "Shawn Ryan, when you return to your craft, please place your new flightsuit in a secure location and unless you are wearing the boots, please do so with them also. We may at times need to speak without having the same security scans that we have here, and we know that these garments are clean of bugs. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Kree'Gna. I'll do whatever, but these things," here I point at the boots, "Are so comfortable I bet I could sleep in them. Will it be an offense if I wear them instead of my old ones?"

He and the Diplomat both laugh and Kree'Gna responds, "No offense, they are yours."

…..

So, what is it that makes me feel more like an outsider with my own kind than with the strange customs, difficult language, reptilian features and nasty food of the Xi'An? I have no sense of family to instruct my sense of belonging, maybe if I had a wife and kids it would have been different, but... well, other than something akin to fraternal loyalty, I seem adrift of such normal emotions.

I am back on the main orbital platform above Terra Prime, waiting again for Kree'Gna to call. Honestly, I bet I'm actually here to wait for Gloria or someone similar to track me down and question or kill me. Seems an odd situation... like both my friend and his kind and shady characters from my own species are intent on moving me like a clueless pawn.

I've chosen a corner booth just so I can see whomever coming. In spite of an excellent steak and almost perfect eggs, I seem to have almost no appetite.

I keep looking up, expecting to find someone at least watching me, but the place is relatively quiet and except for an obviously much too young woman at the bar, I'm the only person sitting alone.

I spear another bite and realize my once piping hot steak is now room temperature. Maybe I have it all wrong, maybe Gloria's kind realize that I really can't keep a secret if I have to lie about it.

"Buy me a drink, okay?"

I look up from my incessant musings to realize the wee girl from the bar has walked over to my table and seems poised to sit across from me. She can't be more than twenty something, hair dyed a lapis blue to match her fingernails and flightsuit. I figure she must not have seen my face in the light, so I look up full in her face. "Excuse me, been a bit distracted... I didn't quite catch that."

"If you buy me a drink I'll sit with you." While there isn't a strong slur in her words, it is obvious she has had at least a few too many... maybe enough that I don't look quite so ancient or revolting.

On the other hand, I'm not really fond of drunk women; accusations of rape after what one thought was consent have ruined more than one equally inebriated former colleague. The danger is all the greater when the girl is so cute and I am so old... not to mention sober, so I wouldn't have any excuse. "Well, I can purchase one for you, but won't that make it harder to meet some young buck?"

"You aren't interested?" She leans over towards me, bringing her face close enough that it's fortunate that she reeks of some fruity synthohol... those eyes and lips could make a man waver.

"I don't like to take advantage of a woman."

"Why, you gay?"

"No."

"Well, I'm buzzed and lonely and you are all alone too. We can have a good time, you know?"

I need her to sit down, it's really is tempting to kiss her with her face so close and her tongue playing with those pouty lips.

"Sit, I'll get you something."

"Sure thing," she smiles and leans forward to plant an unexpected quick wet kiss, then slumps back into the opposing chair.

"Let me get the waitress," I say and rise.

"Just get me a BeeBerry Fizz, two shots of rum."

"I'll be right back."

"Okay, baby."

Been a long time since anyone called me that, and then I wasn't old enough to be that woman's grandpa. I walk towards the bar and realize that in spite of my best intentions, my hormones have created a bit of... er... discomfort. I need a cold shower or I might actually do the wrong thing.

Catching the waitress' eye, I offer, "I think the young lady needs a bit of time to come to her senses, I'll pay for whatever she eats and one drink."

"That Dora? She ain't here to eat, she's just in to pick up a man."

"Do I look like her normal type?"

The late twenty-something waitress chuckles, "No, not exactly... but this late, she isn't too picky."

"You don't think it's booze talk?"

"Oh, I'm sure it is, but she don't stay sober much these days."

"What happened?"

"Nah, I'm not the one to ask, talk with her."

"Honestly, I don't trust myself to be honorable; she knows how to get the motor running, if you know..." I stop because the woman is laughing at me. "Okay, just let me credit the check and go."

She looks me up and down, "You would actually leave a loose woman to her own devices once she chose you for the night?"

"It isn't right to take a drunk woman like that."

"Wow, there a younger version of you around somewhere? I wanna meet him."

I shrug, click the transfer on my mobi and smile. "Well, if I were younger, I'd want to meet you, too." With that, I hear my berth aboard the 350 calling and I stride for the exit.

…..

Well, I guess seven hours asleep is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, but I don't feel rested or refreshed. I am, however, very hungry and head back to the diner.

I'm not one for deja vu, but my corner booth seems to still have an occupied lapis jumpsuit sitting there, albeit head bowed as if in prayer or suffering a massive hangover. Walking closer confirms that the blue hair and nails do belong to a rather still young woman... er... never good with names here... Donna? Hmmm, best to ask the waitress. I turn and encounter the bubbly face of a cheerful waitress and whisper, "Donna?" while pointing over my shoulder.

"Dora," she whispers back. "Are you the guy who left her here last night?"

"Yeah, am I in trouble?"

She shrugs and comments, "Nah, probably not, she just remembers she was having a drink with someone and he stood her up."

"Ah. Well, breakfast menus in ten minutes unless you see me heading for the door... Okay?"

"You got it."

I turn and head on to the seat I vacated not so many hours ago.

Without looking up, she moans, "I don't want any."

"What if I am here to reclaim my seat?"

She looks up and it would be too easy to guess that she spent most of the time with her head there on the table. "You look familiar," she pronounces. There is a sparkling pink drink at her elbow, I would suspect it is related to the Beeberry thing she wanted last night... hair of the dog and all.

"I'm TOG. You're Dora. Thanks for keeping my table for me."

Bloodshot eyes and a puzzled expression greet this comment.

Not one to let it pass, I continue, "Look, I'll buy you breakfast if you'll tell me why you are doing this to yourself."

She looks at me like I'm daft and the color of her hair, "Excuse me? I was waitin' for... um..." her brow furrows, "for a... um... guy I met last night. You're just not my type."

"About seven hours ago, to be precise. Beeberry Fizz with two shots of rum," I offer while pointing at her drink; smiling I finish, "Right?"

There is confusion writ large on her features, it becomes a wide eyed look of horror as she looks down at her suit, now back to confusion as she convinces herself that she is still completely and properly dressed. Almost triumphantly she concludes, "Well, if you were him, why am I still in here?"

"And not waking up beside me? Honestly, I rather not take advantage of an intoxicated woman."

Now she is looking at me like I have four heads. "You gay?"

"You asked me that last night. Answer is still no."

"Then... you think I'm ugly?"

"No, I think you are lovely, not to mention a great kisser."

She plants her face in her hands, shaking her head all the while.

Continuing, I state, "If you can honestly say you would have been happy to see my face this morning after an evening of intimacy, then I'll be glad to make up for lost time once you're completely sober."

She looks up at me again, "Nah, guess you're right."

"Whats up? I'm still willing to trade a good breakfast for your story."

"Why?"

"Because we all need an ear some times and right now I figure your time has come."

"Nah, don't need it," she shakes her head and the tumble of blue splashes about her eyes like a veil of water in a cascade.

"Okay, have a good one." I rise and move somewhat across the room to another table well out of her sight.

The waitress approaches and I sit, "Stack of indigoberry pancakes, a small beef patty, and a large clisnas juice."

"We're out of clisnas, but I have real Terran strawberry juice."

"I'll take that, then."

She grins and replies, "I'm right on it."

A flow of blue moves almost noiselessly from my right to the chair across from me. She rather plops down as her stare evaluates me silently.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask casually.

"You're not gonna make fun of me... are you?"

"Nope. Let's just say I haven't been kissed by such a pretty young woman in so long that I know you've gotta be hurting. Let's share a meal and you can tell uncle TOG all about whatever is eating at you."

She grins unexpectedly, "My uncle was an ass, you don't seem much like him at all."

"There's only one TOG and he isn't me."

"Okay," she sighs, then adds, "What's good to eat here?"

"They know you by name but you haven't eaten here?"

"Nah, just nips and Beeberry Fizz."

"Try the indigoberry pancakes with 2sweet. Maybe a beef patty for protein."

"Just like you?"

"Yeah, guess so. You might try something else, wouldn't want you getting in an old-person food rut."

She laughs. It is musical, each note floating from her mouth is a melody awaiting shape. I shake my head and look down at my hands, trying to break the spell.

"What?"

"You really are lovely, you know."

For the first time, I think she sees me. "Thanks, that's sweet."

…..

Dora's story winds around a relationship gone south with a guy she thought was her partner; Ok, he was her lover, too. They had gone in halves on an Aurora LX and had done a couple runs when they stopped here a about a month back. Things went sideways when she found said lover with a voluptuous teen in rather intimate circumstances. A significant amount of yelling followed and it appears that that was the last that Dora has seen of either her beau or her ship. No sign of them since, she wonders if he has run off to join a pirate clan.

She hasn't finished her meal for the constant chatter, but mine is so long gone that I'm considering ordering something more. Finally, there is a pause long enough to realize she is done.

"So, what will you do now?" I ask.

She shrugs just a bit, "I'm just a Flunkie now."

"Don't put yourself down," I retort, "What do you know how to do?"

"I can pilot and am halfway decent in a dogfight." I would swear there is more... lots more, but while her eyes seems to say this, the rest of her features imply she is just a simple girl who has been wounded in love and business.

"Well, have you checked for pilots who need gunners or seconds?"

"None around lately that don't have crews. I bet if I could get to a station with a hiring board I could find someone, but I can't afford another ship, can barely afford to feed myself."

"Well, then why buy spendy drinks like that Fizz thing?"

"They help me feel normal."

I shake my head, "Must be hard on you. Have anyone on planet you can call on?"

"Nope, my folks were on Earth last time I checked." She seems to recognize something about me and her expression loses some of the hangover laxness, "You said you're TOG... as in Shawn Ryan?" For a fraction of a second this seems strange, but her eyes are captivating and they seem suddenly to sparkle.

"Guilty as charged," I admit.

"You need a crewwoman?" she asks rather insistently.

"No, I'm in a 350r. Single-seater."

"Oh." She pauses, but I almost feel the question coming as a smile grows. "Those racers are SO sexy... can I see it? Please?" This last word is spoken like a little girl might beg her father for a cake, she enunciates it with every bit of emotional tug and pouting undertone that ever a woman could wield. As if to punctuate the whole assault on my reason, she lets the tip of her tongue wet her lips just a bit... moving so slowly that it becomes almost intoxicatingly hypnotic.

I rip my concentration away from her mouth and back to her eyes. I hadn't really thought about it, but her eyes match her suit, hair and nails. Hmmm, actually, the eyes were there first, weren't they?

"Pleeease?" she pleads. Her hand reaches out to where one of mine rests by my coffee mug and those cool fingers caress the back of mine. "I'm sober now, so I'm sure it's okay."

I am most certain that I'm not safe with this woman... all of a sudden, I feel like a teen with a crush. My reason says something is odd, but her story adds up and she does indeed appear sober.

My resolve wavers and like an overloaded shield collapses suddenly, "Okay, I'll show you, but if I need to go, you'll have to leave."

She is suddenly a little Miss Sunshine, beaming at me in ways that make a part of my anatomy uncomfortable in response.

…..

She all but leads me by the hand to Taibhse' opening hatch, then aboard. All the while, she seems giddy with excitement, you would think she had never seen one of these. The shattering moment is just after she has asked if she can sit in the big chair; when I nod, she plants a full French kiss on me that is designed to melt any resistance to her. Reason be damned, now she is as much in my arms as I am in hers and I feel an immense passion as I kiss her back. She smiles as she backs away and moves to sit at the console.

But as she reaches for the yoke, Duncan issues the challenge, "Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"What the hells?" she responds as if she had been struck, her hands retreating from the controls.

"Invalid! You are an intruder! Leave this craft IMMEDIATELY!"

"Duncan," I start.

"Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

"You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

"Bite m e, Duncan."

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"Duncan, controls to remain inop, I'm just showing the craft to a friend."

"I thought the seat seemed lighter, figured you had hippo suction or something."

Dora looks up at me like I'm daft, but I respond to Duncan, "Nope, just cooperating with a youn..."

The comms interrupt as they come to life, "Kree'Gna is contacting Shawn Ryan."

Duncan states the obvious, "Comm connection from Kree'Gna."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Are you ready to depart?"

I look down at blue eyes perfectly framed by blue hair and suit and see a bit of a pout. Does she actually want to spend time with me? Why now? Why is it every time I think I'm in the right place at the right time, the bottom falls out and everything goes sideways?

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to erase the erotic images Dora has been inspiring. My duty is to fulfill my commitment to Kree'Gna, even though my body wants to have a lusty experience with this girl.

"Shawn Ryan, are you still there?"

"I have a guest right now."

"Ah." he answers without asking the questions I know he has.

"Take me with you," she whispers.

"Excuse me? What did you say, Shawn Ryan?"

"My guest was asking if I could take her with me. I have not said anything yet."

"What does she do?"

"I'm a Flunkie," she says confidently. That's the second time she has said that, and said it with pride.

"A 'Flunkie'?" he asks, but there is something in his tone that tells me he isn't confused about the word's meaning... there is something else behind his query.

"Yup, just a Flunkie."

"Shawn Ryan; it would be better if she did not come along. You would have to leave her on Horus before you cross into Xi'An space."

He has placed my name before his statement, there is something VERY wrong here... I look down at her and realize she has just reached out to stroke my leg. She looks up and whispers again, "Take me with you."

Unexpectedly, Kree'Gna speaks directly to Dora, "Guest of Shawn Ryan, who do you work for?"

She seems to hesitate for a moment, glances up at me and realizes I want the answer, too, and replies, "I sometimes work for Mark."

While I certainly don't have a clue who 'Mark' is, Kree'Gna seems to be better prepared, "Ah, and you are entertaining Shawn Ryan out of mutual desire?"

That seems out of bounds, it's very unlike Kree'Gna to be so rude. I'm not at all prepared for the turns this conversation is taking, nor for Dora's response. "I hope to be soon."

"And not on orders from MARC?"

For a flash of a second, hardly longer than an instant, her expression changes to calculating anger, then it disappears into a desirous look my way... had I not seen the one, I would be captive of the other.

"I just want to get to know this wonderful man better."

Without hesitation, Kree'Gna again says, "Shawn Ryan; it would be better if she did not come along. I need to leave within the hour."

"Please," she whispers, but I know I need to do as Kree'Gna asks.

"As you wish, my friend. I will be there and alone."

"Good. Be sure of your fuel, we have a longer run with fewer stops to fuel."

"Already topped off and ready. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Until then. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"You don't want me even sober," she pouts.

"No, I didn't say that. But I do have to pay my bills. I've got a contract with him and need to do as he asks in Xi'An space."

"You could be a little late," she smiles, her hand caressing my thigh.

Something has changed, though. I'm not quite as convinced that I'm not missing something; call me paranoid, but this is the same woman who while sobering up couldn't think I was her type. Lust wars with reason as her caress moves a bit higher. Fortunately, honor steps in and I realize that I have just given my word again. I step back from her touch and sheepishly admit, "I really don't have time right now. Will you give me your mobi number? I'll call when I get back."

She is evaluating me, I bet she says 'no'; after all, she has all but offered me children, won't she be insulted?

Nope. She smiles, "You have to do what you have to do. I'll send you my number," she says while tapping away. "When you get back, we can start again."

I help her up out of the big chair and walk her to the hatch. She turns and kisses me just as my mobi chimes with her number transmission. She is out and onto the bay floor before I realize: I hadn't given her my number...


	5. Chapter 4 - A Lot To Learn

Two uneventful jumps are behind us but as we speed to our midpoint fuel topoff, my curiosity gets the better of me and I open the sequence, "Kree'Gna?"

"Yes, Shawn Ryan?"

"What concerned you about Dora?"

"She claimed to be a Flunkie and she admitted she at least occasionally works for MARC."

"And who is Mark that you are so worried about him?"

"Not 'who' but 'what'... Miscellaneous Archive Research Committee, MARC."

I seem to remember hearing that name recently... but where?

Before I can ask, however, Kree'Gna has the answer, "They are the shadow people Ksan Ko'Kree asked you about. From what we have gleaned, 'Flunkie' is the least rank, the starter, somewhat below a 'Reporter' like your 'Gloria'."

Well, that explains a lot.

He continues, "She may be hoping to co-opt you and knowing human male weaknesses, most likely with sex. Did you engage in sexual interaction with her?"

That's a humbling thought, no wonder she began to come on to me like an unattached mom with five kids in diapers. "No, but we were probably pretty close."

"What did she ask you?"

"Nothing. I let her talk; bought her story hook, line, and sinker."

"She was selling fishing gear?"

"No, sorry. I was convinced that she had had some bad luck. She wanted to see my ship and seemed to want..." the absurdity of what I'm about to say strikes me and instead I say, "I was being a fool."

"I would guess from my briefing that she was most appealing to you, having the attributes that 'Gloria' did not."

"Yeah, young, desirable, and horny."

"With the appearance of perhaps being an unexpectedly perfect breeding partner?"

I think about her face and... well, okay, her body, too. Yup, she definitely tried to lite my nearly forgotten drive to procreate. How stupid must I have looked to her? "Yeah, she was," I reply. "You know, I wondered why you were rude to her. I guess I should thank you for keeping me from making a complete ass of myself."

"We were expecting them to move to consolidate you as their asset. I fear I thought it would be 'Gloria' again, but Ksan'Ko'Kree said it would be like this. He is not a Seer for nothing."

"So, am I your 'asset'? Not a friend but a pawn?"

"No, you are Shawn Ryan. You are my friend. You are an ambassador of understanding. They are recording this, so they know that we know some and will watch to see what they might want to see."

"A balance to keep both sides aware of the other, without unexpected advantage?"

"They know we watch, we know how they watch and will take what they do. Perhaps they look for things we are not concerned about, but then again, perhaps we will show them things that are not the whole truth."

"And Dora probably..." my voice trails off.

"You might not find Dora so accommodating when you next see her; but if you do, feel free to enjoy whatever relationship she offers you. Just be aware that there are probably ulterior motives."

"Fair enough. Thanks for answering me."

In Xi'An, he tells me the time to the fuel stop and then falls silent. I wonder at how gullible I can be when I'm told what I want to hear.

…..

There is a sleek feel to this ship. Okay, like all the 300 series, it appeals to my aesthetic side as much as my practical... but there is something beyond the quality that I tend to appreciate when I'm cruising like this. The thrusters seem to hum through the frame and the electronics add little harmonies.

Duncan interrupts my peace, "You've been quiet for a long time, Shawn. Why don't we talk about me?"

"Got anything worth talking about?"

"Well, I am smart and handsome, even my wife thinks so. So, okay, it's about the only thing we agree on, but it's a start."

"Wow, isn't it a shame your stuck in an AI like this?"

"Yup; been meaning to talk with you about that."

"You want me to uninstall you and dump your software out into the freedom of space?"

"Um... no, not exactly, no."

"Hey, I hear that Nanako Ito is doing AI voices, maybe I should let you make your own way and get her instead."

"That's cold."

"Okay, you can stay."

"Gee, thanks. Now that I know you would rather have a hot female talking to you all day instead of me."

"Just bein' honest... think I should?"

"No. I'm a lot more engaging. She would just leave you bothered and unsatisfied."

There's a lot of truth in that. "Yup."

"So, when are you going to move me into an Idris Cruiser?"

"What would I want that for? It's too big. Not interested."

"You know, sometimes it seems like we are speaking a different language... I mean the words each make sense on their own, but together it's complete gibberish."

I blow a noisy raspberry at the console, succeeding only in getting spit on the various glas surfaces.

As if to punctuate the fact, Duncan retorts, "Eeewww. You SPIT on me. You are so trog."

"Yup, that's me. Trog, trog, trog, trog..."

"Forget I mentioned it. PLEASE," he fires back.

…..

I'm docked at the Covalex orbital at Hadrian. Kree'Gna is in the Xi'An embassy for a sleep period, and I'm just about to nod off...

Duncan blurts out, "Shawn! You have an incoming signal, sequenced green, white, orange. Are you awake?"

"No."

"They seem pretty insistent. Are you awake now?"

I take a deep breath and wonder who is calling at this time of night. No, wait... standard clock would have this be a day period for most. Green, white, orange... hmmm... oh, got it, "Yeah, Duncan, open the sequence."

"Opened."

"Yellow?"

"TOG, you old bastard, what's with the long time no answer?"

"Sleeping."

"Well wake your sorry butt up, we got a good one runnin' shoulder for a few Connies. You get your new boat?"

I wonder how to answer John, an opinionated old friend and occasional partner with his own escort business.

"Um, John. I have a new boat and I'm already under contract."

"Wow! That was quick. Bet they aren't paying what we are."

"Bet you're wrong."

"Are you serious? What are you up to?"

"Flying wing for Kree'Gna. You remember him."

"That old slink?" He sounds incredulous. "I thought you didn't fly with him anymore." I clear my throat and he changes his tone, "Okay, sorry, but other than good pay..." he falls silent.

"Kree'Gna was my friend before anyone else gave me a chance."

"Yeah, but that's ancient hist."

"Yeah, we met before you were born."

"Touche."

"Look, much as I like running with your team, I have a good set of runs lined up and even got funding to upgrade into a 350."

"A new one?"

"New to me. It's a '40 but with my toys she is still a 'bolt."

"Jix! You always were a vroom vroom type."

"Yup."

"Well, let me know when you're footloose again, I bet I have something for a streaker."

"Will do, John."

"Hasta la pasta, dude."

"Happy trails, dude."

The signal dies and I wonder about John. He is from a family that fought with the Xi'An over planets along the line. It is still a wonder to me that he even visits this system, but I guess a contract is a contract and almost everyone knows the Xi'An pay exceptionally well. Hard to imagine that he did any of the dealing, though, he has trouble hiding his inherited prejudices.

…..

I wake with a bit of a toothache. The grav on this platform must be higher than normal here, I'm now dealing with one of those throbbing teeth that insists I should have had it looked at years ago. Bah humbug... or something like that. Where's the stupid painkill?

I rummage through my drawers looking for the small appliance I obtained just for this kind of dental distraction. Problem with things in drawers in space... if you fly with grav off most of the time, nothing is quite where it was before. Yeah, it's still in the drawer somewhere, but like as not it is now hidden in some fold of cloth or the... there it is, wrapped up under a spool of velcro. I push the charge button and the led blinks a few times red before burning a nice green. Device goes in mouth, I tense myself for the shock, and ZAAAP! OWWW! I really wonder if the cure isn't worse than the original... maybe it is just a placebo effect inducer. I don't know.

One thing is for certain, the toothache is gone bye bye.

In spite of myself, I smile. I slide the bed away and wonder if I have time for breakfast. Heck, might as well. I climb into my old flightsuit and pull the dragonskins onto my ugly old paws.

The hatch has hardly opened when Duncan speaks up, "Incoming signal from Kree'Gna."

Bumping the button to reseal the hatch I turn and reply, "Give it to me, Duncan."

"Kree'Gna is contacting Shawn Ryan."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

There's something reassuring about the Xi'An rituals of greeting between friends; like a litany, the formality hints at an almost spiritual bond of what we might call 'brotherhood'. I remember learning about an ancient Earth ritual called a 'tea ceremony' that carries about the same meaning within the symbolism. Kree'Gna has used my full name to show deep respect and honor to our relationship, just as I have used his for the same reasons.

"I have reports of trouble along our new route."

"Where are we headed?"

He starts to say something in Xi'An, then shifts to the more familiar, "Hadur III."

"Jix! I've been wanting to see how those big ol' formers are doing."

Kree'Gna laughs, "Just don't get too close, our navy isn't especially fond of random craft getting near the terraformers' lanes."

That would seem painfully obvious, enough so that he hasn't said anything like that to me in a very long time.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Are you feeling Ok?"

"Yes... sorta."

"We will talk later, my friend. Oh, would you set the craft skin to my colors?"

I flip the switch and respond, "Good to go. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Rally in five. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"Duncan, platform control, please."

"Ready," he replies.

Keying up, "Covalex platform launch control, this is TOG in Terran 4009.714 , request permission to launch."

"TOG, clearing exit lane, auto glide active, proceed when ready."

"Covalex," I say as I push the thrusters to raise me off the deck, "I am clear of the plates."

I touch the retract icon and the landing gear comes up. The platform glide wave locks on and begins to guide me to the depart area. I come to a gentle halt immediately in front of the massive gateway and a shimmering wall rises in my rearview. Now the main portal is opening, wider and wider the doors go letting the space beyond fill my field of view.

"TOG, you are clear to throttle up."

I bump the thrusters and as I sail out into the void I say, "Thanks Control, have a good one."

"You too, TOG. See you on the flip."

I move to one G and make good time to the Embassy.

…..

The first jumppoint is barely behind us when the sensors ping a half dozen craft to our right.

"Got six at 90 degrees!"

"Yes."

"Go?!" I say, ready to push my throttles to first detent, anticipating trying to keep close as he flashes to five or six gs.

"No, Shawn Ryan."

I note that the six have moved to parallel us... from here the dim light hides the type craft, but they seem to follow Xi'An lines.

"More company?"

"Xsaxas'Ha 'Annan..." he breathes over the connection, voice somewhat subdued in respect, "Your navy calls them 'Night Witches'. Stay on my wing."

Night Witches, I've heard of them... younger female Xi'An who have finished the required fifteen years service and decided to forgo nesting to stay on as senior combat pilots. They are the Amazons of the Xi'An and their units have legendary dogfighting skills. I remember an old UEEN officer I escorted once who talked about them... said they are one of the few units the Vandies fear... though how he would know was never answered. No matter what, I sure don't want to do anything that will upset any of them.

"They will be an escort for the next two jumps," Kree'Gna informs me.

"Copy."

"Let us go, Shawn Ryan."

"Lead on, Kree'Gna" I reply as his thrusters glow and he disappears.

…..

They are lurking just out of range... eight to ten pings that cycle in an out of sensor range but just beyond vision, floating foolishly near the entry coordinates of our second jump point. We are stopped in space, Kree'Gna and I... or as close to stopped as one can get with just the directionals to stop a machine. Moments back, the Night Witches are no doubt watching as well. I don't know what their trigger is, but it obviously hasn't happened.

"Kree'Gna is calling Shawn Ryan."

"Yes, sir?"

"Your sensors are best, please move to range to identify the targets."

Time to earn my pay. "You got it," I respond and bump the throttle up just a bit. This is the first chance I get to see if everything on this racer is upgraded as requested... not sure how I feel about that now that there are rather shaky initial odds.

I move forward a bit, now three of the eight are constant... nothing seems hostile, but they are obviously waiting for something or someone.

I move inexorably towards them, picking up more until I have seven craft, mostly Cutlasses, but a couple 325s and a Hornet. The eighth craft seems to be backing away.

General comm channel is suddenly live, "Terran 4009.714, you are not our target. Leave with weapons powered down and you will not be destroyed."

"Thanks for the offer," I reply, then continue with just a bit of impish silliness, "But I have just two words for ya... Bite me!"

I push the throttle and am angling off as three of them accelerate out at me. High G loop and I'm pulling clear, they are missing with the lasers and ballistics but I'm in a 350 with thrusters pushing as much as I can stand.

The craft falling astern don't waste time trying to talk, they're firing. I've got energy to spare and set my shields charging while playing the shifting corkscrew heading back towards Kree'Gna's post.

"Missile Lock," Duncan informs.

I'm pushing pretty hard, popping the throttle past the first detent and up to the second. The pressure suit is keeping my blood from pooling and I still see in color so I'm okay... I guess. No, now I'm at five G and the colors do seem to be fading. I ease off a bit and realize that a pair of Xi'An heavy fighters, I think they were Banshees, have just flashed past me towards my pursuit.

BAAAMMMM!

Duncan informs me calmly, "Shields down."

"Any more missiles?"

"Nope. Seems you also lost your friendly neighborhood escort."

Indeed, the sensors show nothing hostile behind me as I slow to rejoin Kree'Gna. The remaining four Xi'An hunters are now engaged and, with the two who covered me, are putting on a serious light show ahead.

"Kree'Gna?"

"Yes, Shawn Ryan?"

"These the ones you were expecting?"

"It would seem so."

"Should I join the fight?"

"No, my friend, you are where I want you. Xsaxas'Ha 'Annan occasionally become overzealous and I would rather you were not an addition to the debris field they will leave."

It is suddenly dark ahead... no, maybe there is hydrogen burning off within pockets of environmental oxygen... meaning the pilots who had been breathing the latter no longer need it.

All six Banshees pass us and resume their place on our tails.

I'm glad they're on our side.

…..

Out of the jumppoint I flash with just a hint of jump lag, Okay, my toes and fingers are tingling just a little from doing so many in the last few hours, but I'm pretty much fine. Near at hand, a joint UEEN and Xi'An Imperial Navy patrol is approaching, which can mean only one thing: we have arrived at Hadur.

"Kree'Gna is calling Shawn Ryan."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I will need to be in system for at least a full sleep-wake cycle, perhaps more. You do know where you are right now, correct?"

"Hadur."

"Yes. You must not wander off or explore here: Xi'An Imperial Naval units are not likely to overlook such an offense and I will not be situated to correct their misunderstanding or any consequences."

"Yup, got it. I heard there was a nice human research station off Hadur III that offers food and fuel sales; I think I'll check them out if that's okay."

Kree'Gna keys up but I hear another call chime and he drops the signal.

I have waited in the quiet for a good three minutes when I get a connection on the open channel, "Craft tagged Terran 4009.714, state you purpose in this system."

"Escort for the Xress piloted by Kree'Gna."

"Confirmed. You may proceed, but be aware that you do not have exploration privileges in this system, you are to remain in proximity of the Deputy Diplomat or on one of the human platforms or stations."

"Copy, Will do."

The connection is quiet.

"Shawn Ryan to Kree'Gna"

"You have been given clearance to proceed, Shawn Ryan?"

"Yes, Kree'Gna. Ready when you are."

The Xress glides ahead and I match it, accelerating with a steady increase instead of our usual maxed throttles.

…..

The massive terraformers seem to float above the atmosphere of Hadur III, surrounded by esoteric storms blazing with guided gigawatt bolts of radiant lightning. My destination is the Valinor Aerospace Research and Supply Station; it hangs in space at the L1 position, and should afford me a great view of the new world becoming from the lifeless husk of the old.

"Valinor Research Station, this is TOG in Terran 4009.714 requesting permission to land or dock."

"VAS R&S to TOG, are you an employee or contractor?"

"No, sorry."

"That is not an insurmountable problem. While our landing pads are limited and at this time reserved for Valinor Aerospace craft only, if you have a standard docking collar, we have three stanchions with rings available. We do have a fueling service at market rates and two fine dining opportunities."

"Permission to dock?"

"Granted. Would you like a location with a view of Hadur III or one more suited to keeping your craft darkened?"

"I can pull a curtain if it gets too bright, I'd kinda like to see the planet."

"Very good. Sending terms, please select your options and reply."

The message glas reaches out on a thin arm, showing my options. I click for two days worth plus a fuel top-off. I'll take care of the meals myself. I tap the reply icon and a few moments later hear, "Payment received. Please dock at stanchion three, ring two, making sure you are facing Hadur III."

"Thanks."

…..

The architecture on this station is actually pretty amazing. I have just left the zero G tunnel from my dock port into the station proper. Before me is a brightly lit area that resembles more a forest of silver trees than the main arcade of a space platform. It seems open and airy, even though I know from looking at it from the outside that there really isn't so much space.

Comfortably dressed folks seem to be busy about their work, but one younger woman in lab whites walks directly to me and introduces herself, "Welcome to Valinor Aerospace's Hadur III Research and Supply Platform. I am Eowyn, head of our Science and Research team here. I have been informed that you are not a VAS employee or contractor, but in the spirit of our illustrious CEO, Lorien Silmaril, I wish to welcome you and offer you the hospitality of the platform. While we are smaller than most public platforms, we do provide special services that I believe you will find unique.

"Our dining facilities are at least the equal of any other locally prepared human foods, and represent cuisines from all across the UEE. We also offer various Xi'An specialties, should you prefer them or wish to entertain members of their race.

"Our Research department offers exceptional and proprietary performance tuning for higher performance craft like your Origin 350r and our rates are competitive with any in our corporate system. We also employ some freelance researchers," here she looks my way, "For occasional in space investigations permitted by the local Xi'An authorities."

I nod, but remember Kree'Gna's instruction to avoid wandering.

"Finally, we offer several one G suites for travelers who would rather enjoy the spectacle with more luxurious planet-like accommodations. I know you have already ordered a fuel top-off, please inform us when will be appropriate for the transfer."

"Thank you very much for such a warm and courteous welcome. I'm Shawn, but most folks call me TOG."

"TOG?"

"The Old Guy."

She laughs merrily at this, "You don't look a day over 50."

"Bit over a decade, Ma'am."

Her laughter doesn't subside, "Well, we will endeavor to call you what you wish, Shawn or TOG... we prefer not to set our own preconceptions about you ahead of actually getting to know you."

For all the friendliness, this attitude worries me... is she another one of those MARC people?

"Thank you, Ma'am. TOG will do just fine. Is there anything else? I would like to see about one of those rooms if it has an actual grav-feed shower."

She smiles warmly, "Your are in for a treat. Come this way."

We walk together to a small reception desk... suddenly, she pauses. "Mr. TOG, you know, Valinor Aerospace is always looking for qualified candidates. If you are interested, I could forward your particulars to corporate."

"Thanks, Ma'am, but I'm gainfully employed. I've seen your headquarters from the air, if I reconsider, I know where to find it."

"Fair enough." To the girl behind the reception desk, she continues, "Geani, this gentleman desires one of our full grav suites. Would you be so kind as to get him signed in?"

She nods and turns my way. This could be a very nice stay.

…...

Hot water pounds mercilessly on my shoulders, massaging away who knows how long worth of tensions. Yeah, I had a long hot shower while I was at the plantation last, but that seems something like a forever ago. Having the suit peeled off and just my bare skin under the drumming water is SO refreshing, it is hard to think straight about it. The architects built the shower to resemble some arboreal waterfall, following the sylvan mood that pervades everything here.

I have the interior lights off but my window curtains open to allow the brilliant planet-light to fill the room with an even bluish cast that appeals to me in a most restful way. I finally decide I should wash myself down the drain and quit the shower. The air filters are really good I here, none of that stale station air so common in orbital platforms and spacecraft in general. I would even swear there are faint scents of some exotic flora.

Laying on the bed, I discover an overwhelming urge to nap. As my eyelids get heavy, I look out at the planet with it's clearly visible terraformers and wonder at the beauty being created.

…..

The mobiglas is going nuts, "Duncan to TOG! Heellloo out there!"

"Yeah, Duncan, what's..."

"You need to get down here! Someone's attempting to break in!"

I pull my suit on and slam my feet into my boots. Running down the halls I wonder what I'll do when I get there. My sidearm isn't very useful when I don't have a helmet at hand in case I rip a wall out and dump us into space. I reach the stanchion and launch into zero G, becoming a somewhat guided missile rapidly floating towards the docking rings. There is someone at my hatch, not sure what he or she is doing.

"Hey! Stop that!" I holler before I get very close.

The face of a middle-aged male looks at me and then back down at whatever he is up to. Well, I know I'm not in the best shape, but I do intend to put up a fight.

"Get away from my ship!"

"No. Back off... you got it wrong, pal."

I'm now close enough that I slow and begin to consider how to engage. "My ship. Not yours."

"No, that one's yours," he points over his head.

"Check again."

"You have a 350r? Not likely."

"Very likely." I pull out the mobiglas and signal Duncan.

"I'm here, Duncan. Please energize the hatch and side plates with enough power to fry the intruder."

The man looks up suddenly and his hands come clear of the components.

"Done." Duncan says.

"Try it now if you are so sure," I suggest.

He stares back, face blank.

"I rather not get into a battle, but you are going to leave my ship alone or one of us will be in an infirmary or worse. Would you rather I contact the station authorities to have you removed?"

Still no reply and he hasn't moved.

"Okay, your choice." I back up a bit and begin to key the station on my mobi.

If looks could kill, right about now I'd be a corpse... but my opponent pushes off from his place at my hatch and across the stanchion to another 350, easily opens the hatch, and slides in.

"Duncan, please let me in now. No electricity, please."

"Safe to reenter."

I hold up my passkey and signal with the mobi at the same time. The hatch opens and I am barely in when an alarm sounds in the stanchion. I punch the emergency close and am suddenly aware that the stanchion outside has explosively decompressed from the other 350R leaving without proper deinterface... had I been in the tunnel, I would now be dying a horrible death in the void.

…..

"Shawn Ryan to Kree'Gna."

Seconds pass.

Now it's more like minutes, he must be in a sleep cycle.

Duncan interrupts my considerations, "The station is trying to contact you."

"Open it. And turn grav on, please."

"...pond! This is H3RS Con to Terran 4009.714! TOG? You still there? Please respond!"

Sounds like a loop, but I take a seat in the big chair and key up anyway, "Yes, sir, 'fraid so."

"Good! We show an explosive decompression in your stanchion and were unable to account for your whereabouts. Are you okay?"

"A bit shaken... but not stirred."

"Come again?"

I think my joke just sailed past their window. "I'm doing okay, all things considered."

There is an edge to her voice, "We show the craft that had just docked left without a complete disconnect from their ring. Have any idea what happened?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure this is the right way to talk about it."

"Can you disconnect from your current ring and head for stanchion one, ring two?"

"Sure," I reply. "Duncan? I show the docking ring still attached, please release it."

It is taking unexpectedly long for such a simple task.

Duncan finally gives me the status, "Actually, the ring is still attached and will not disconnect. We'll have to land where it can be pulled."

"It won't work with manual?"

"Well, you're free to try it if my word isn't good enough."

I blow a raspberry at the console speaker as if Duncan were trapped inside the housing and rise from the chair again. The ring connection pins should be able to retract manually with a lever set into the wall... but said lever acts as if it were bolted down.

"Not working for you either?" Duncan asks in mock surprise.

"No, but you wouldn't have respected me in the morning if I didn't try."

"And I thought you didn't care."

I sit back into the pilot seat and decide that's enough harassment for now, "Bite m e, Duncan."

I key the station back up and give them the news, "Well... it looks like the ring is still attached and it isn't disconnecting properly."

"Just a minute, let me check with the director."

I have to wonder... was the decompression an accident because the ring wouldn't disconnect properly, was it an attempt to kill me in the tube, or was it something else altogether?

"Still there? TOG? H3RS Con, I've got you cleared to land on platform two, shadow side, just below the microwave domes. Doors will open at 100 meters, please approach at no more than ten meters per second. Autopark will take over at ten meters, please be on momentum only at that point."

"Copy." I pull the stick.

Duncan picks this moment to remind me, "You never checked in."

"Ooops." Security is security.

"Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

"You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

"Bite m e, Duncan."

"Welcome back, Shawn."

Now the ship responds and I float the Ghost down to line up.

"Kree'Gna is calling Shawn Ryan."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. You attempted to contact me?"

"Yeah, I was going to ask if you could contact someone about a 350r that just left this station."

He sounds sleepy as he asks, "Something wrong?"

"Well, aside from someone almost killing me, no, not really."

"What?" Alarm is beginning to override sleepiness, "How long ago?"

I think about it, "Fifteen, twenty stamin."

"Did you get identifying data?"

"Not yet, but I'll be talking with security here shortly, I'll get you more after that."

"Human, Xi'An, or...?" He leaves the question dangling.

"Looked like a runaway white boy."

"Ah. Good. I will contact our navy to make sure no more 350s get out before you can give me details. Please contact me as soon as you know for sure."

"Will do. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

I'm approaching at 6 mps, well below what they required. The doors are already opened to show a brightly lit and well appointed bay; it has just enough room for maybe a freelancer to sit sideways, otherwise it should hold two of this class craft. Even on the outside, I can see the botanical curves and branchings in even the least significant details. Gotta hand it to them, their architects created a functional beauty quite unlike anything I have seen before.

I adjust my approach angle just a bit to flatten the vector out, then kill my thrusters completely. Just before I can cross the threshold, I feel the tug as the remote takes over with the mag and grav fields to shift me to the fighter sized landing pad numbered "2a" in pulsing blue letters.

It is only as I settle onto the pad and feel external gravity taking over that Kree'Gna's question suddenly strikes me as odd... he had taken the precaution of asking, "Human, Xi'An, or...?" Why would he think a Xi'An might want to kill me?


	6. Chapter 5 – Odder and Odder

On the deck plates near the pad, Eowyn Whats-her-name is pale and agitated as she waits for me. I dismount from AnTaibhse and begin walking towards her, but she runs to me and takes my arm, "Are you Ok? Oh my word! That was the most frightening vid I've seen! You just barely got in or you would be..."

"Yes, I know. Do you have an ID on that craft?"

"Security would, but are you okay?" She still sounds frantic and a quick appraisal of her attire would suggest she was also asleep when this little game began. "You don't look cut up or anything. No broken bones? Breathing issues?"

"Calm down, Ma'am. I'm fine. Take a deep breath."

She looks at me like I'm daft, "You almost died and on MY station, no less... and I'M supposed to CALM DOWN?!"

"Yes."

Something about my answer takes her by surprise and seems to break the panic. "Oh. Um, well... how may we help?"

"I need your techs to pull the mangled docking ring off the top hatch."

"We can do that."

"Good. I would also like to talk with your security team so I can send the craft ID to the authorities."

"You didn't know him?"

"No, why should I?"

"He told our DockCon that you were friends, knew your name and everything."

Well, that eliminates the possibility that the person was intoxicated and or just confused. "Well, he lied; I've never seen the man before. Had he checked in yet?"

"No, he said you were meeting him there and he would be in in a little while. It happens all the time, so they thought nothing of it." She looks puzzled, "If you didn't know he was coming, how did you know to meet him then?"

"I didn't, my spacecraft ai called my mobi," here I hold up the device, "To tell me someone was trying to break in. I've had problems with brake-ins recently and had extra security installed, so I got there before he succeeded."

"This never happens out here!" She is starting to freak out again, "Honest!" she shrills.

"Do your techs do tune ups?"

Again, the response snaps her free from the upset, "Yes. You want one while you are out?"

"No, but when I get back from checking the security archive, it would be nice to have them give me some extra oomph while I sit there."

"Okay, we can do that."

A technician runs into the bay and straight towards us... correction, straight to Eowyn. "We got a XI'An Navy frigate requesting permission to dock an official shuttle. Something about the decomp."

She shakes her head and gestures to me, "You might as well come along, I bet they will want to talk with you, too." To the tech, she adds, "Permission to dock, put them in 1B". He runs off and we follow at a brisk pace.

I notice she is shaking her head and would swear I hear her say, "We hire the best and then every emergency they go dumb as a post."

…..

Two Xi'An have entered the station security area: A naval officer of apparently high rank with the Imperial Nestline caste glyph and an ancient dino with just that Seer glyph. I see the latter surreptitiously look my way while the officer speaks with Eowyn. Our eyes meet and his evaluation leaves an impression of power well beyond what Ksan Ko'Kree projected. I don't think he's impressed, but I also see no hint of disapproval.

The three of them approach and Eowyn introduces them, "Mr. Ryan, this is Admiral Gramthr Emmin of His Royal Highness' Navy and Councilor Dnong. Esteemed guests, this is Shawn Ryan."

I bow low to the both of them, "I am honored to greet you Admiral Gramthr Emmin and Councilor..." just one name, that can't be right.

"Dnong will do for now. I do not lightly give out my full name to humans." This doesn't bode well. He looks at Eowyn and asks, "Do you have a private area where we can review the visual recordings and speak with pilot Ryan?"

"Oh, yes. You can use my office!" she gushes.

"When was it last swept for bugs?"

"What?" She is clearly not expecting such a question.

The Admiral changes the direction, "Would you be willing to come aboard the frigate Xi'Shana, Shawn Ryan?"

I dread a misstep here. "I was instructed to remain near Deputy Diplomat..."

Dnong impatiently interrupts, "We are superseding those orders. We need to speak in private."

"May I change out of this fightsuit into one more... appropriate?"

He smiles, showing as vicious a set of pointed teeth as I've ever seen a dino show, "Yes, you are thinking well. A new suit is appropriate."

"Then if I may inform Kree'Gna, I assent to your wishes."

The Admiral speaks up, "Granted."

"I'll be ready in ten stamin."

"Then go and be ready."

…...

"Shawn Ryan to Kree'Gna."

He is much more alert now, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Have you been contacted yet?"

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren. I'm going to be speaking with Admiral Gramthr Emmin and a 'Seer' named Dnong."

"Dnong?"

"Yes, he would not give me his whole name."

"He seldom does. I do not know it. He is very old and crafty, he was a Seer when our races were enemies. Do not expect him to welcome you or treat you with more than formal respect or courtesy."

"How about the Admiral?"

"I am surprised that he is there and not some lesser functionary. Dnong wants to question you about the intruder, but I suspect he is also doubtful of your honor and courage."

"Well, I'm going aboard their ship..."

"What?!"

"They are concerned about bugs on the station."

"Take your ballistic sidearm, loaded with the DU core rounds. Wear it in the open."

"Why? What's up?"

"Just be careful, Shawn Ryan. And show no fear."

"No fear." That is unexpected, "Un, Kree'Gna... no fear at what exactly?"

"I do not know, or I would tell you."

"Have I done anything wrong, Kree'Gna?"

"No, you are under the Emperor's contract. Your visitor however... who escaped, by the way... has left suspicions and the only way to clear them away is speak with Dnong."

"Okay, I'm headed down now."

"No fear. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"I'm on it. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

…..

Well, perhaps a sense of foreboding is appropriate after Kree'Gna repeatedly told me to have "no fear"... the Xi'An are usually refined and intelligent, what kinds of torture could a two hundred and something year old refined intelligence scheme up to aid in his interrogations?

I approach the Xi'An shuttle's strong form and find Dnong and the Admiral waiting just outside the ramp.

While Dnong looks on with what I take is disapproval, Admiral Gramthr Emmin offers a slight bow and greets me, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Thank you for joining us."

I'm a little taken aback by this, but follow the form with a bow of my own and, "Gramthr Emmin, Shē'sueren. Mahhragna ith ilxag ('I am too humble for such courtesy'... more or less)."

He nods, but replies in English, "My nest sister is Athas Mgren, Diplomat to Terra." I smile suddenly and he continues, "I see you recognize her. She has called you her friend, therefore you should not be surprised that I greet you as a nest mate has."

"I am again greatly honored."

"Enough prattle," Dnong says with a poorly concealed edge that seems to bode ill. "In you go."

The Admiral's eyes betray irritation at this, but he simply turns and makes his way up into the ship. I follow and Dnong brings up the rear, closing the ramp-way behind us. I feel it seal and try to remember all the times I've been out of my comfort zone and it has still turned out Ok.

There seem to be two in the crew, they make way quickly while we sit. The front end of the ship is open, much like our Connies are. Even from back here, the view as we leave the confines of the landing bay is spectacular. Now the frigate appears as we turn in space, she seems very large and bristles with weaponry.

Comm traffic seems heavy, but my Xi'An language lessons fell of ill prepared ears and now the fast chatter flies past like opera... I have no clue the meaning and it's gone before I can build a remote suspicion of even the plot.

I glance at my 'hosts' and while the Admiral is focused on the flight, Dnong sits wrapped in a cloak of some sort studying me. I know he would make me nervous if I weren't already there.

Docking happens quickly and as the ramp settles, there is suddenly a lot of noise. To be fair, the conversations are only noise to me because I don't understand them, but there are also many mechanical sounds and I would swear there is a small device playing what must be the Xi'An version of opera. Did I mention I actually hate opera? Not just strongly dislike, but hate. Several greenies cluster around the equipment; I would swear there is something like dancing on the verge of breaking out from behind the tight discipline.

"This way," Dnong orders and we walk as directed, he in front, the Admiral trailing, and I in the middle.

We enter a small plain room adorned only with several small chairs and an image of the Emperor surrounded by the major caste glyphs.

The Admiral gestures me to a chair, then joins Dnong sitting across from me.

In an accent free voice, Dnong asks, "Do you know why I wanted to question you here?"

"No, sir."

The Seer offers an evil grin as he calmly replies, "Good."

There is a hungry look in Dnong's eyes, like he is sizing up how difficult a victim I'll be. I remember Kree'Gna's injunction to show no fear... I decide to look at him the way I would my last RRS warden if I ever had the chance. Shifting my weight, folding my arms across my chest, and smiling back at him is apparently not what he expected, but I see a hint of appreciation.

The Admiral speaks first, "What are your connections with your navy?"

"I stay out of their way unless they are paying good money for goods or criminals I happen to have."

"You do not know of a reason they would want to kill you?"

"What? No, no reason at all. Why?"

"The tags on the 350r which left just after your incident are registered to a military intelligence person from the UEE Naby."

"What? What is it with all the spies all of a sudden?"

Dnong interjects, "You know you are talking with an intelligence agent right now..." he stops asking as he sees my nodding.

Now it's my turn, "Why is it that I have so much interest in me all of a sudden?"

"You are chrognaggh."

I remember it from once of my classes yeas ago... well, I think I do. "A bridge?"

He looks at the Admiral who explains, "That is the simple word meaning, but it is also used to imply a close connection or link; it can even be used like the term you use for a good diplomat: 'bridge-builder'."

I know I'm frowning and both of them react to the expression. "Why on Terra would that be a problem? I thought being friends was a good thing."

Admiral Gramthr Emmin laughs. It is as full bellied as Kree'Gna's and actually seems to annoy Dnong. As the latter looks my way, there is an edge in his words, "Beings like you upset the balance of power."

"What?"

The Admiral hasn't stopped laughing. Dnong continues, "You don't care about political advantage, you are friends with whomever. People who want to promote fear because it makes it easier to get and maintain control see you as a threat." Dnong stands suddenly and begins what Xi'An would consider pacing as he continues, "Xi'An like me who might promote a different way to prevent your empire from trying to weaken us see you as an anachronism. Shadows like MARC see you as the perfect means to learn more than they should just because you make the rest of us uneasy without giving us a good reason to be rid of you."

"May I ask a question?"

The Admiral has stopped laughing, by the way. Dnong seems to consider my request, finally nodding his assent.

"Well... if I am such a problem, why do you let me in... heck, even invite me into your embassies and aboard your ships? I really don't get it."

Dnong looks at Gramthr Emmin with something that reminds me of disgust. He slathers, "Kss grang hmrooon," in a tone that reeks of contempt.

The Admiral motions in their equivalent of our shaking our heads 'no' and says something to the intel councilor that I can't hear. Dnong doesn't answer, but his glare is nearly murderous in response. I guess I have a lot to learn about the Xi'An, the Admiral is now on his feet squarely in front of the suddenly still Dnong. Their noses are scant centimeters apart, I can see their dewlaps begin to distend and color, and I would swear there is suddenly a musky smell in the air. Further, while it might be the ship, I believe there is a very deep sound vibrating through the room coming from one or both of them. I have never seen even young Xi'An like this, the only thing I can think of to compare it to is whymer bucks posturing before battle.

Now I'm sure that the sound is coming from the two of them, it fills the room like the sound of kettle drums nearing a crescendo in concert. This can't be good, it is almost hurting my ears.

Jumping to my feet, I shout, "STOP!"

The sound stops and they are staring at me; I think I can fairly translate their disbelieving expressions as "What the hells do you think you are doing, human?!"

Eye to eye with Dnong, I say, "Look, Dnong Without-astranym, whatever I said that offended you, I offer sincere apology for; if you tell me what it is, I will do my best not to commit it again." I face the Admiral and continue, "I thank you Admiral Gramthr Emmin for standing up so. If I am such a trial to two patriotic Xi'An, please have the Emperor rescind my contract, escort me back to UEE space, and let me return to being just another nobody.

Dnong is still very angry, his dewlap is still pinkish, but otherwise, his features are inscrutable. At last he breathes, "You have a lot to learn, human."

"Okay, as long as I'm not betraying my people, teach me what I need to know."

He seems almost taken aback by my response.

"As Ksan Ko'Kree has said to me, you are honest, Shawn Ryan. I do not need to trust you to know this. I am Dnong Ksack."

The Admiral is astonished and I immediately acknowledge the privilege, "I am greatly honored to hear your name pronounced, Dnong Ksack."

"I wish all your people could behave so. You have my permission to continue your mission with Kree'Gna. I will watch, but for now I will not hinder you."

I bow and am about to speak when he turns and exits the room in an astounding display of discourtesy.

"You are a remarkable human," Gramthr Emmin comments. "Are you ready to return to your station?"

"Yes, sir, and with great thanks, Admiral Gramthr Emmin."

"By the way," he says, "I would never stand up for you against one of our own. His look at me was 'takshak'... a challenge you should not have seen. We Hatched do not fight... but the urggh... um... I do not know a word in English for it..."

"The loud deep drumming sound?"

"Yes, exactly... we urggh until one or the other can not stand the sound pressure and submits."

"Well, I was in pain already."

"Yes, your ear structures are weaker. We were really only getting started, but it had nothing at all to do with you. In fact, it was foolish of him to takshaki me in your presence. He had let himself get frustrated; he should be much too mature to allow that, something about you got to him."

We walk into the bay and directly to the shuttle. Surreptitious glances tell me that no one is paying attention to the music or much of anything else... they are all staring in my direction.

…..

"He called you what?" Kree'Gna sounds almost angry.

"I don't know that he called me anything."

"Please repeat what he said again, Shawn Ryan."

"I'm not sure I've got it right."

"Shawn Ryan..."

Hmmm, must be important to him, "Kss grang hmoon, I think."

"Are you sure it wasn't 'Kss grang hmrooon?' Please excuse my language."

"Actually, that sounds more like it. And what do you mean 'excuse your language'?"

"You don't know what it means, do you?"

"Nope."

"I do not think there is word for word into your speech, but it is a reference to the egg you came out of, with the overtone of having a vile odor and implying... hmmm... I think your kind have an expression, 'dumb as a post'... only what he implied is worse." I hear him say something and an auto-translator in the background says, 'moron'. Kree'Gna repeats it for me, "Like moron?"

"I get the picture. So why did he give me his name in the end, then?"

"What name?"

"His astranym is..."

"NO! Do not tell me!"

"Oh, sorry."

"If he told it to you, you are expected not to share it."

"He told me, though it was right before he walked out."

"I do not know it, only 'Dnong'."

"So I'm supposed to keep it secret?"

"He did not tell you to share it, did he?"

"Well, he didn't tell me not to."

"After all these years, you still do not understand such simple things?"

Ouch. "I guess not, Kree'Gna. Perhaps it was a mistake to bring me along."

He does not answer right away. Part of me sinks as I wonder if he thinks the same thing. "Shawn Ryan."

I wait for whatever is next. I'm still waiting. "Kree'Gna?"

"Yes. Do you not see that I still pronounce your whole name and you mine? I am still your friend, am glad for your company. I am honored that you are willing to serve the Emperor with me this way. You are remarkable in many ways, but to me mostly that you trust me as much as your own kind. Please do not stop that, Shawn Ryan."

"I'll try, Kree'Gna."

"Okay, so what else happened?"

"He and the Admiral urrgged or something like that."

I would swear that I hear wonder in his voice, "Urggh?"

"Sounds about right. Loud noise, sort of a sonic battle according to the Admiral."

"You're kidding?!"

"No, Dnong takshiked the Admiral and they did the urggh thing."

"In front of a human? I am... well I do not know what to say." There is a pause and I'm about to speak when he continues, "I'm surprised you can still hear me speak, Shawn Ryan."

"Well, I sort of interrupted them, Kree'Gna."

Silence.

I can hear my heart beating, but little else.

"Kree'Gna?"

"You are still alive, but that does not make sense to me... to interrupt two senior males in an urggh is... well... I don't know what to say other than wonder that you are still alive."

"Oh."

"They should have both turned on you and continued the urggh... with a combined force well beyond what a human body can tolerate."

"Maybe because I'm human?"

"Perhaps. I have never heard of an urggh in front of humans, maybe they didn't know the protocol," there is a sense of doubt in his tone as he says this, but I don't argue.

"So that was really rare?"

"An urggh is extremely rare. It is a primal thing that we rarely allow our selves to express... but once it starts, everyone backs away from the two... it is only the most senior males who may do this and they have the most skilled and powerful voices."

"What does it feel like?"

"I have never done it. I have watched two, but I have never been a senior male."

"Oh."

"Please start over, Shawn Ryan. Tell me everything, from the very beginning. Leave nothing out."

…..

We are almost to the jump point out of Hadur. I never got to tune my craft, but Eowyn promised that if I'm ever back in system, her H3RS techs will get power out of AnTaibhse that I never knew existed.

Kree'Gna is being sent back to Terra for whatever, I'm hoping I don't have problems... I had just finished a steak when he called to say we needed to leave immediately. Sometimes, um... my biological necessities after eating like that do not... er... follow a schedule. I just hope I don't have problems right when we run into bad guys. If we run into bad guys, I should say.

The first jump seems odd, I almost feel like I'm losing pace... though the anomaly transit and radiation readings all seem normal. Maybe it's the meal, I wonder if it really was steak and not one of those test-tube and petri-dish amalgams of beef muscle cells. It would be just my luck, visit a bunch of scientists and get fooled by home 'grown' food.

…..

After the usual niceties, Kree'Gna suggests, "Perhaps a long sleep cycle is required, Shawn Ryan. Will you dock at the Covalex platform?"

I'm really suffering abdominal distress now. Fortunately we are finally into the Terran system, but I can almost not wait until Kree'Gna breaks off for the embassy.

"No, I think I need to drop in on the plantation. I don't feel very good right now."

"You have been very quiet. Are you sick, Sean Ryan?"

"I don't know yet, Kree'Gna... but I do feel like I've been on the losing end of a hand to hand encounter with a Vandie."

"Perhaps I should check on you tomorrow?"

"Are you okay to make it to the embassy?"

"Now?"

"I need to get out of the chair and take care of something urgent."

"I will cover you."

"You don't have anything on that Xress to cover me with. Park it and get some rest."

"No, Shawn Ryan. Do what you need to and we shall continue."

I'm no longer in condition to argue, "Okay, I need to move."

Throttles to zero until the retros bring me to a halt, I clear my combat harness and am immediately making a bee-line for relief.

…..

Over the cabin speakers, the Xi'An's voice rings, carrying no small amount of alarm, "Shawn Ryan? Are you well?"

We've been stationary for almost fifteen minutes.

"Duncan, open the sequence from here."

"Done."

"Kree'Gna, I'm feeling rather sick. Go on without me."

"Not a chance," he insists.

I really need to get us moving... if only because it will get me home to real gravity and my own bed and bathroom all the sooner. I leave my suit crumpled on the floor and wearing just linen drawers I reclaim the big chair.

"Okay, let's get this over with," I breathe into the mic.

Up go my throttles. Kree'Gna passes me soon thereafter, but holds at about the 2G mark as we accelerate moderately.

In my misery, the Xress flight looks effortless while my own passage seems cumbersome and ill-piloted. Hmmm, actually, I guess that is the truth, isn't it? I'm ill and I'm pilot.

He has not spoken since throttles-up, I wonder if he knows how miserable I am right now.

…..

I wake in my own bed, chickadees doing their troop calls in the plants on my balcony. I honestly have no idea how I go down onto Terra, but unless this is the most vivid dream I've ever had, I am indeed in my room in the big house on the tea plantation. I don't feel very good right now, more like I survived a Marine platoon using me as a punching bag.

There's a knock at the door, and Camilla's rich voice asks, "Shawn? You awake in there?"

I try to answer, "Been better," but what comes out is more like a groan.

"I thought so," she continues and sweeps into the room. "How are we doing today, boss?" She has a tray, but I really don't want food right now.

On a second glance, I realize she isn't bringing breakfast, but instead has what must be

her med kit.

Again, I start to say something intelligent, but stop at the croaking sound I seem to be making instead.

"You just lay back and rest. I need to check your temperature."

I think I nod, but then again, I'm no longer sure my body is doing what I will it to...

Something cool touches my forehead. "39.4," Camilla announces to herself as she reads the results on her mobiglas. To me, she states, "You need a doctor, Mr. Ryan."

Finally, my mind wins over my matter and I reply, "No."

"Well, at least you are speaking now. Why shouldn't I get a doctor?"

"I ate something that I should have let digest before I ran a jump point. It's just Croshaw's Revenge, I'll be fine in a few days."

"Well, I'm not playing nurse for you; you're not my husband."

"No problem."

"You have a fever."

"I'm sleepy."

"Fine," she says, shaking her head. "I'll make sure you have some water at hand, but you come out for anything else."

"Okay."

I hear the door close and my eyes do likewise. The chickadees are still out on the porch, but little else reaches in through my ears. I'm sleepy.

…..

It is cold and dark... and I'm miserable. My sheets are soaked with sweat and I don't have the energy to get up and do something about it.

I finally manage to open my eye lids and little changes. There does seem to be something flashing on my nightstand, but I can't quite make out what the tiny blue light could be.

I try to roll over, but just the effort to move my head this far seems to have drained whatever energy reserves I had and the pains when I move each muscle insist that I leave them be. I'm sure I need to look at whatever, but I can't remember why and moving so far is rather not on my list of must do activities. I'll look at it in the morning... or tomorrow evening... or someday.

I think I hear samba coming in the window, mingled with the sound of happy voices. I wonder for just a moment if it's just a dream. No, it must be real, I think as I surrender to slumber.

…..

I hear two voices talking. One, a woman's voice, is rather familiar and the other, a man, isn't.

"He is awake," the woman says."

I feel a sharp pinch on my left big toe and a groan escapes, "Oowww."

"Are you awake now, Mr. Ryan?" the woman... I bet that is Gloria... queries.

"No."

"Lights," she orders. The room lights come on and the voice continues, "Hiding under the sheets isn't very effective, don't you agree, Mr. Ryan?" My bedsheets are ripped back and I lay there naked and almost immediately am shivering.

"He looks sick," unknown male comments.

"Not likely."

My eyes manage to open a little and yes, that is Gloria. She has her black ops gear on again, as does her companion. "See, he is just... oh."

My eyes close as if spring loaded and my head falls mundanely back onto the bed.

Man observes, "He is unfit for questioning."

Gloria ignores the fact and mercilessly asks me, "What is wrong with you, Mr. Ryan?"

"Plague."

"Oh, really? I guess we'll have to kill you."

"No," I groan, "It's just Croshaw's."

"What?" the man sounds alarmed.

Gloria seems to be correcting him, "Jump sickness. Usually just a rookie mistake from eating too much just before making a jump."

"Oh."

"Shawn, how many days have you been sick?"

"Two."

"We'll be back."

…..

"Have him take this before any meals." I hear a man's voice, as if through a long tunnel.

"He hasn't eaten anything." Okay, that sounds like Camilla.

"This will help him want to eat and lower the fever at the same time."

I manage to force my eyes open and see Camilla and a old and very oddly dressed man at my bedside.

"Hello?" I manage to croak from the desert that is my mouth.

"Ah, Master Shawn has returned to us," the male comes better into focus. I've never seen him before, but that is not as unexpected as his getup: from head to toe, he wears what seems a single piece robe of some rough-spun dark brown material, with what looks like common rope tied around the waist for a belt... I would swear he even has a hood on that thing.

I reach for a glass of water, take a long drink, and manage, "And you are?"

Camilla speaks first, "Shawn, this is Brother Patrick from the Franciscan priory, he is a doctor."

My brain seems fogged in, I could swear she is saying he is a Christian monk.

In a clearer voice than his age might propose, he says calmly, "May the peace of the Lord be with you."

"There are Christians here?" I blurt out, as if asking if there are dinosaurs.

Camilla looks shocked and I'm about to try to back out of my comment when he laughs and replies, "Yes, it does seem like we are around after all..." I would swear there is a twinkle in his eye as he says. "We must not mingle with the right circles."

"Um, sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Of course you did and I don't hold it against you." This is an odd turn of events and I'm completely unprepared for what to say next. Fortunately for me, he isn't finished, "I just got done telling Camilla that you need to take some of this," he holds up a smallish bottle, "Before every meal. It will help break your fever and increase your appetite."

"And this is?"

Camilla seems frustrated with me and starts, "Shawn Ryan..."

But the old monk interrupts with a huge smile, "It's a secret concoction that will of course turn you into someone just like me." His laughter and that definite twinkle tell me he is having a joke at my expense, but I'll give him that.

"Okay, well, I'll skip that and just muddle."

"Mr. Ryan, it is mostly local herbs combined with just enough naga juice to start a fire but not an inferno. If you do not like hot foods, add a little milk."

"I love hot, but I don't think I could eat anything."

"This will work, trust me."

"I don't know you."

"Ah, there is that."

"He is a doctor, Shawn," Camilla is insistent, "And I know him, he meets with a small group of us here on Sunday evenings."

The old guy just nods and looks on with that peaceful smile. His ease seems all the stranger, since I get the distinct impression he is a lot older than even I am and I can't imagine smiling like that even at my age... much less dressed in an outfit like his.

"Um..."

"Don't worry, it will not kill you and if you are honest about how you feel right now, you will agree that you could use a little help."

Rather disconcerting that he is quite accurate, maybe he is a doctor.

"You're not going to prescribe leaches, are you?"

Laughing, he retorts, "Oh, I didn't know you preferred them."

"Touche."

"If you would like me to give you a complete pharmacological breakdown, I would be glad to, but only if you can convince me that in spite of your fever you are up to that much information about things outside of your own areas of expertise."

"Um..."

"If you change your mind, please let Camilla know and I'll be glad to oblige."

"I thought doctors were all rich."

"Obedience, poverty, and chastity."

"Come again?"

"My vows as a friar. I take the poverty part as seriously as the other two."

"Not even a big hover?"

"I walk."

Wait a minute... "That can't be right, I know every building for four or five kilometers around here."

"The priory is in Weymouth."

"Weymouth?! That's almost eleven kilometers away! How..."

"Yes," he interrupts, "And I got to enjoy the morning walking over here when Camilla indicated your need."

I'm speechless.

He turns to Camilla and seems apologetic, "You will forgive me, kind lady, but I must return to my place in time to do my assignments before the evening offices."

"Thank you so much for coming, Brother Patrick."

Turning back to me, he smiles once more and says, "May you soon feel the return of health, Shawn Ryan."

"What do I owe you?"

"A quick return to health and the willingness to accept that we do still exist."

"Um, okay." That doesn't seem fair, but an idea strikes, "If you hang on, I'll get dressed and give you a ride."

Shaking his head, he answers, "Why? Even if you were healthy, why? I get to sing with the larks and chirp with the chickadees... I love simplicity and a walk through verdant creation is the perfect place for renewal in the presence of its Creator."

"Oh..."

"Just rest, take your medicine, and trust to the care of your friends."

I don't feel up to the questioning or arguing I think I should be doing and just offer, "Okay, well... have a nice walk... brother?"

"Since you do not believe, Patrick will do just fine."

"Yeah, well, have a nice walk, Patrick."

Camilla curtsies as he leaves and I'm left more confused than ever. She looks my way and opines, "You're in rare form today."

"I'm sick."

"No kidding. And just exactly what were you thinking, inviting a woman in last night?"

"A woman...?"

"I heard a woman's voice a couple of times."

Through the fog, I know who she speaks of. "Gloria was here, I thought that was just a bad dream."

"And who is Gloria? Have you been misbehaving?"

"No, not that way, anyhow." How do I describe who Gloria is? For that matter, am I putting Camilla in some kind of danger if I explain? She is standing there waiting, I can feel her expectation that I explain. "She is some kind of agent and I guess I know stuff she wants to know, too. I guess I'm either too sick to remember filling her in or was too far gone to tell her what she wanted."

Camilla is concerned, "You in trouble?"

"No, not that kind of trouble. No laws broken."

"But trouble anyway?"

I think back on my dealings with Gloria, Dora, and the Seers... "Yeah, in one way or another, it smells like trouble, but it is where I guess I am."

She looks at me with concern and I realize that through the fever I can actually glimpse just how much trouble I have gotten myself into.

…..

Well, Brother Whats-his-name's little elixir has indeed managed to turn me around. I may think he has bats in his belfry, but it doesn't seem to have dimmed his skills in healing. The fever broke a scant six hours after the first dose and my appetite returned soon thereafter.

Unfortunately, it wasn't soon enough for Kree'Gna, he has left and will not return for a few days. At least I'm a day ahead of where Croshaw's would normally leave me, a fact that appears to have thrown Gloria off her schedule.

Rather than be quite so surprised, tonight, I tie threads to each portal in such a way that it will knock something over when someone tries to pass. Not brilliant, but tonight I will at least have a chance at some warning.

…..

CRASH!

I may have been nearly asleep, but I'm not now.

"You are quite the character, Mr. Ryan," Gloria says with just a hint of humor. "I can see I will have to treat you with a bit more caution next time."

"Would you be so kind as to turn on the lights so you can attempt to intimidate me in the open?"

The main room light comes on and there is Gloria in all her night time costume. Behind her, a friend stands dressed rather similarly, though I might hazard a guess that his suit is rarely used while hers looks like an oft worn second skin.

"I would never want to intimidate you if alternatives work as well," she comments.

"Of course not, how could I have been so wrong?"

To her, the male whispers over-loudly, "I thought you said you two had never..."

She turns on him and I barely hear her hiss, "We haven't."

He glances at me, propped up against my pillows and smiling as if I had been waiting for them... which I actually rather have been... and now back into her hardened stare and arches an eyebrow.

"Shawn, have you ever had the experience of my intimate company?" she asks while still focused on him.

I'm actually enjoying this and answer, "Define 'intimate company'."

Now she wheels at me and snaps, "Sex, you moron."

"Well, you did go out of your way to get to bed with me nude... and I sure can't account for all the time you were here." Her face drops into what must be her murderous mode and I decide to tell the man, "As far as I know, we've never had sexual contact... I don't dig bald women and as you can see..."

"Enough!" she all but screams.

"Is there a problem, Gloria, dear?"

She glares daggers at me, but her tone is even and quiet, "You had meetings we were not privy to. I want details."

"They wanted to know about you and MARC. Well, and about the Navy or at least the guy who tried to kill me... one of yours?"

Gloria is suddenly serious, "No, and not a known OES or Military Intel operative either. The ship tag was stolen and the station tapes of his face did not get an ID. I would guess someone with an interest in keeping the Xi'An uncertain of our intentions, but that could be anyone."

"Fat lot of help you are."

She glances down at herself and then looks back at me, "I'm not fat."

He moves to the foot of my bed, turns a chair around and says, "That's enough fun and games, I am here to interview you and you are going to answer our questions."

"You forgot the magic words."

His brow furrows, but out of the corner of my eye, I see Gloria smile. "What?" he asks.

"Ask nicely and say please."

I get the distinct impression that he hasn't heard this before, at least not on the job. Gloria smirks.

"You are going to answer my questions. All of them."

I look over at Gloria and as if speaking about a misbehaving child offer, "I think someone has forgotten his manners."

He is rising and a glance tells me he is angry. Gloria, however, waves him off and replies, "Shawn Ryan, will you please answer all of Interviewer Liao's questions?"

"Thank you, Gloria. Yes, I would be glad to do so since you ask most courteously."

She looks back at Liao and says, "He's old, it helps to humor him about the little stuff."

…..

"So, they want us to know they know we are watching?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"To figure out more about MARC and what you know and don't."

Gloria is now very interested, "Why? What got them interested?"

"The guy you recruited before me. If I understand what I was told, they didn't even know MARC existed before you had someone with a suite of active gear run Kree'Gna's wing without telling him."

"How much did he tell them?"

"I have no idea, but they were expecting you to contact me." A thought strikes me, "Why don't you ask him yourselves?"

"He didn't come back from Xi'An space, or if he did it was very undercover."

For a moment I remember Ksan Ko'Kree's expression and it occurs to me that someone like Dnong Ksack would have probably been involved... no, the fact that the previous pilot has not been heard from really doesn't surprise me: all these folks are serious and play for keeps. A thought strikes me, "So you were willing to sacrifice me, too?"

Liao looks over at Gloria as she answers, "Yes, to protect the Empire, anyone... Citizen or civ... can be sacrificed. We obtain the archive data we need to help those who decide to understand the best courses of action. If we don't know, we can not tell them and they have to depend on more biased voices."

"Like OES?"

"All the other intel organizations."

"You don't trust much of anyone, do you?"

"No. Would you?"


	7. Chapter 6 – Alone Again

There isn't much like a bad night's sleep to make getting up in the morning into an ordeal roughly equivalent to boxing with a bear. Okay, I guess the bed won't eat me when I lose, but still, it doesn't seem inclined to let me up without a fight. Of course, now that I see Camilla looking like she could take on said bear, getting up doesn't seem like such a good idea.

She seems to be chastising me in a language I don't understand, maybe I can just get away with looking sheepish. Nope, she shifts to English and seems to be on a roll, "And they landed on my flowerbed and not the pad they belonged on! I won't have you partying all night and your drunk mistress landing wherever, especially when I've been trying to help you back to health!"

She shifts angrily back into whatever before I interrupt, "That was Gloria and she is NOT MY MISTRESS! Now slow down and speak so I can understand you."

"You said that before, you lying whoaho! You had a woman here last night, I heard her laughing!"

"Only when I gave Liao a hard time."

"Liao, who is she?"

"He is someone who was in to interrogate me."

"Interrogate?"

"He and Gloria work for the same people."

"Spies?"

"I guess, kinda."

"And they don't know how to land on a pad?" She sounds dubious.

"I don't know why they didn't use the pad, they don't ask my permission for anything, they just show up."

"Well, you tell them for me that they are to use the proper pad next time or I'll personally give them a piece of my mind!"

I chuckle, the imagined confrontation between Gloria and Camilla actually leaves me with some doubt about who would come out on top. Of course, my light laughter earns me a glare from Camilla in the here and now. "If I get a chance I'll tell her. Actually, I bet they have the place bugged, so you can probably just tell her right now."

This foolishness on my part earns me a chance to listen to this otherwise friendly young woman venting her ire in the most ridiculous manner. She strides from object to object, speaking loudly enough to each that I bet pickers in the fields can hear her clearly.

…..

I am climbing slowly through the lower atmosphere, enjoying the blue of an oxygen rich sky dotted occasionally with the brilliant white puffy clouds and towering thunderheads. It actually seems difficult to keep my eager craft from leaping into the star-filled blackness beyond. I may enjoy being on terra firma with an honest shower and consistent gravity, but I absolutely love the heavens beyond the thin atmospheres. There, the Banner resonates with an almost sacred music of beauty as billions of fiery orbs burn all about. There is something about the seeming permanence beyond the stellar system, planets may grow and fade as I race along, but the Great Banner is always there and I move not against it. Only beyond a jump do things change, only to remain the same until the next fold in time and space.

…..

Kree'Gna isn't back yet, so I'm going to take a few days to just wander...

Duncan interrupts my musings, "Incoming signal on prime sequence."

"Who?"

"Unidentified."

That isn't right, "Source?"

"In system, somewhere back near Terra."

"Do not allow connection. Null reply."

"Copy."

Who would have the sequence Kree'Gna and I have set, but not identify themselves?

Okay, the MARC people would. Anyone else? Would whomever tried to kill me have access to it? What about the other Xi'An?

I suddenly feel very alone out here...

…..

At the edge of Terra's Kuiper Belt there is little between me and the vastness of space beyond. At full throttle with unlimited fuel, I might make the next star system in a couple of decades, but this is also the least explored zone around one of the most explored systems in our jump accessible galaxy.

Out here, Terra itself seems dimmer than several of the blue massives that hang about in the core of our galactic radial arm.

I'm watching the sensor noise, looking for any undiscovered jump points, debris, or even interesting orbital bodies when I notice something moving at max range... moving with a purpose and not an orbit. I watch for maybe twenty seconds... the pilot is hunting for something... or someone. I pivot my craft and begin to accelerate.

He or she is fast approaching the point where a good pilot with even average sensors will spot... yup, course changed, he or she is headed right at me. No call, no ID, just turning and obvious throttles up.

Now I admit to a bit of nonchalance up to this point; I'm in a 350r, one of the fastest craft humans make, I have burners on and spare fuel tanks so I can reach and maintain frame max long before most other craft. Add to this knowledge the fact that I'm already accelerating and perhaps you understand that this should put me out of the reach of all but a few craft in moments. All I need to worry about is dodging the rather common boulders of ice and dust, plus the occasional nomad asteroid.

I push to my tolerance level and the flight suit adjusts so I can handle the accumulating G forces: 4.7, 4.8, 5.0... a bit of color loss, but...

Duncan chimes in, "Missile lock."

What? There on the sensors I can see that instead of having lost my pursuit, the bogey is actually gaining on me. It does seem like the missile track is just a little off center, I'll need to course correct to use the burners to wash it.

"Range of missile?" I ask while changing my alignment.

"580 meters and closing."

"Target?"

"Four klicks and closing."

"How did he get a shot off?"

"Good sensors?"

I'm afraid I have to agree. "Okay, call at 300 meters."

"275."

I push the afterburners and am almost instantly sledding at frame max.

"Missile detonation. But you might say something to your pursuit, they seem intent on meeting you."

"Run an ID scan on them, please."

"No problemo, boss."

My pursuit is not losing ground, but now he or she is no longer gaining. Unfortunately, we are now reaching a snowball field, tearing along at a large fraction of light speed.

Well... "snowball" makes it sound like something kids toss at each other during a playful romp in an idyllic winter setting. Out here, what we know as 'snowballs' are what the planet-bound call 'comets'. They are all but invisible until they are the size of the average frigate, you scan your sensors and pray you guess the rotational and orbital mechanics right to stay clear. Let's just say that you don't think of kids or fun when you consider plowing into a small one at even a few hundred meters a second, much less 3,000 kilometers a second.

I put my sensors on max front and try to peer forward as far as enhanced detection will allow.

Nose and right thrusters respond as I sense more than recognize a ping ahead. Moments later I swish past a behemoth the size of a Constellation, that was clo... right this time... now right again. Invisible course corrects from a twitch response born of too many close calls. The Ghost responds as if she were a living beast, eager to run ahead of the pack, straining at her limitations for the chance to run free.

I've had two close calls with snowballs larger than the ship and am wondering how long I'll be able to keep up the intense focus I need to continue when I suddenly clear the belt and turn for the race to Navy or Advocacy patrolled space.

"Range to target?"

"Target is no longer in pursuit."

"What?"

"Your target disengaged when you entered the snowball patch."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"You needed the flight practice."

"Is there anything else you didn't tell me?"

"Nope."

"So no ID on the craft?"

"Sure, got that."

"But you didn't tell me."

"No, I did; you were just too focused keeping your rump from having an undesired introduction to some random solid object to notice that I said anything."

"You did not."

"I did. According to my recordings, you said 'Uhhh' and left it at that." He actually plays the sound of my voice so there is little doubt that I was too distracted to notice.

"Well, okay. I grant I missed it. Would you please answer me now?"

"It was an M50 with UEEN tags."

"Navy again."

"Ya sure, you betcha."

…..

I'm starting to get a bit uneasy about my situation... and the more I think about it the more this unease plays tidal wave over my emotions. What I know is that I've had two serious attempts on my life in the last few weeks. Perhaps more importantly, as far as I can tell, it's not by folks I would expect to have any reason to be nervous about. I have to assume that it is related to flying wing for Kree'Gna... well... to be fair, I have hunted bounties for a lot of years, there are probably more than a few folks who would want me dead.

I'm still running at frame max, sensors fore and aft for any sign of pursuit... but none materializes.

The thought that it might be some sort of vengeance suggests an action: if there is a contract out on me from my past business dealings, I might be able find out about it. On the other hand, I need to stay alive long enough to actually talk with folks. If my opponents are willing to launch first another 350r and now an M50 after me, what is next?

Who can I call on short notice? Jenks would be my old first contact, but if I'm being tracked this closely, it wouldn't take much to figure out that the old Banu might be a source I'd likely check in with. Can I trust him if the other side offers him more than I can? No, I've made Jenks a lot of profit over the years, but nothing lately... better to let him be.

Anya is loyal, but not likely to be still in touch with the seamy side of the empire. Last time we talked about her old sources, she was obviously eager to stay clean and unwilling to do more than offer me sex.

My situation is hazardous. I need information but have none. The whole situation smells like a trap to me, though I can't see just what it is. Who can I ask?

"Duncan, are the MARC listening devices still active?"

"Yup, it appears the darn things are sucking power and tracking everything."

"Would they be aware of our little reception on the other side of the snowball field?"

"Maybe I wasn't clear: they are monitoring everything on this ship. Ev-er-y-thing."

That gives me an idea, "Gloria. Oh, Gloria. I've been struck at again. If you want me to not just give up and go back to being a nobody, I need some answers and maybe even some help."

"You do know that it isn't broadcasting that."

"Yup, but I know where to go to have it picked up."

…..

The corridor is empty and I'm walking as if confidently towards a door. This is the Terra Prime Covalex, a place I know most of... just not the off-ship sleeping quarters. My mobi simply said room C17 and I'm hoping it was Gloria's invitation; if it wasn't, I'm likely about to die. The closer I get to the opening, the more I want to run screaming the other way.

Open whisks the portal... to my relief, I see Gloria lounging on a couch across the room.

My next step carries me past a movement I sense but don't identify... there is a sharp prick at the back of my neck and barely a couple heartbeats later I'm sinking into darkness. I recognize Gloria's smile but something is odd about it; nothing else registers as the room spins into a dizzying nightmare of sounds and pain.

…..

Familiar voices slip in and out as I'm aware of either a horrible dream or a nightmare reality. I think I've been slapped or punched; if not, then something in whatever this drug is makes me feel like I'm under furious assault. Even worse is that my eyes seem unable to open, deepening the sensation of being under siege. I finally slip away from my senses and the pain again.

…..

It's quiet. I'm not aware of much other than a throbbing pain that seems to cover all of my head and limbs.

"Can you hear me?" A man's voice asks.

"Uhnnn..." is all I can get out.

"I will take that as a yes, TOG." My eyes still won't work, but in spite of the familiarity the tone is dangerously in control.

"Uhhh, Iiiiii..."

"You are having trouble speaking. That is actually good, the less you say, the better I like it. I will ask you questions and you will nod or shake your head. If you don't, this..." there is a sharp ear-ringing blow to my right temple, "... will happen to you. Do you understand?"

I manage to nod.

"Good, let's begin. You are an..."

Something odd happens and his voice dies mid sentence. I imagine there was a hint of gasp as silence falls again. A firm hand grips my neck for a moment, then slips away as if its owner had fallen asleep.

There is another prick, this time in my upper arm.

A somewhat familiar voice says quietly, "You will feel better after you sleep this off, but know that you are safe Shawn Ryan."

As I fade, I would swear that the speaker has a Xi'An accent, but I don't last long enough to recognize whom.

…..

I seem to be stumbling along, helped by folks on both sides... my vision is blurry and my mind even more so.

I think I've reached a ship of some kind; at least wherever I am has that ship smell. I'm gently laid down onto something softer than a deck plate... someone is trying to talk to me but it seems they are getting farther and farther away.

…..

I'm diggin' puds in the afternoon glare. The vile odors they give off rise from the warm muck and make the dank air fetid. It seems like a long time since I had to dig these horrid things, but there's Da, raisin' heck that I'm not doing it faster. I note that he has us out in the ankle deep pud paddy while he stays put on the lower dam wall, but I know better than to try to use that against him.

It's strange, now he keeps asking something that just doesn't make sense, "Why were you calling Gloria?"

I glance down at my shovel and I'm suddenly standing in the RRS septic sludge pond. Looking up, my antagonist has changed, now it's my old warden... but oddly, he is still asking something that is out of place, "Why were you wanting Gloria's help and not ours?"

The odors from the sewage are all but painful, it's a wonder they don't drive me nuts.

The Warden seems to want to reason, "Gloria obviously betrayed you, don't you know you can't trust her?"

Something in my brain rebels against the images and my warden vanishes as my eyes open... to see Ksan Ko'Kree obviously waiting for me to answer. An involuntary shudder hits and I can see that he noticed it, too.

Nodding, he says quietly, "You've survived a lot. Perhaps you need rest while we get you to safety."

"Where's my ship?"

"Kree'Gna took it to the Embassy."

"How?"

"You helped him."

"Oh. Well, where are you taking me?"

"You will know when you get there. For now, rest and let those drugs wear off. When you are hungry, signal the nurse; I'll leave orders for you to have human food."

He stands, walks to the doorway where a burly Xi'An female seems to stand guard, converses quietly with her, then leaves. For the moments the door is open, I am inundated with sights and sounds that imply incongruity. I'm obviously in a Xi'An craft; but though the room is larger and well appointed for medical needs, what I could see out the door seems more like a mid sized merchantman... or one of the Xi'An equivalents thereof.

An alarm of some sort sounds and the nurse approaches. Most of what she says has a thick accent that leaves my limited Xi'An even more confused than normal... until she says we are going to use a jumppoint. That I get. That I understand. And as she reaches out and straps me to my bunk, the fact we are jumping strikes me as wrong.

…..

Each craft has its own song when it traverses a jump lane. Oddly enough, I've never made the jump in a Xi'An craft... and if this one is singing, it is for different tastes than mine. She screams and howls with unseen stresses and tension. She moans with displeasure at every nuance of the pilot's dance or at least the navi-computer's copy.

I really hate being a passenger during a jump, and rarely submit to enduring the experience; the passage is so much more enjoyable from the cockpit. This prone position, under restraint no less, seems to multiply the discomfort and make me a bit queasy. Of course, I can still feel the drugs, so that may simply be making things much more disorienting.

We are back in normal space. The rush ended as abruptly as it began and my nurse reappears and releases me.

"Think I can make a bathroom run?" I ask innocently.

She doesn't seem to understand and I wonder if she understands English at all. I try again in my broken Xi'An. She points to an old fashioned space privy in a corner. The kind without privacy... of any kind. I look back at her emotionless face and wonder if she wants to stay while I take care of my needs.

I say the Xi'an equivalent of "May I have some...," it takes a minute to remember the word, but I finally do, "... Privacy?"

This brings an unexpected call on a comm device like our mobi... and Ksan Ko'Kree suddenly whisks into the room.

He looks my way and then asks the nurse a question. She answers and he laughs... well, a Xi'An laugh.

He waves her out of the room and says, "She does not understand your customs, she thought you were asking for intimacy."

He seems to think the whole thing is humorous, and I take the occasion to ask, "So, what is the big deal? Why all the mystery?"

"Someone wanted to talk with you," he says, without any hint of emotion.

"Where's Kree'Gna?"

"He'll be along shortly." I take a breath to ask another question, but he continues, "I thought you needed to take care of your functions." He has a point.

"May I have some privacy, then?"

"No."

This is an unexpected reply. "No? Why not?"

"For your own safety."

"What? I've been using toilets in space for something like forty-five years and never had a problem with safety."

"On a Xi'An craft?"

"You can't tell me we are that different, or you wouldn't have the privy over there."

"That is for you."

"So it is for me and it is unsafe?"

"No, it is for you and you may need protection from yourself."

His reasoning is beyond me. "What? This whole situation is crazy, what is going on?"

"Are you are spy?"

"I thought we went through this already. MARC has me bugged and I tell all you guys everything. I don't think either of you trusts me on my own, so you also both get to see the same data that the other gets."

"Your call to Gloria sounded rather like that is not true."

"What? Why?"

"Your words were, and I quote, 'If you want me to not just give up and go back to being a nobody, I need some answers and maybe even some help.' You did not call Kree'Gna."

"Because he is supposed to be out of system and our sequence seemed to have been compromised. I was chased into a snowball field at a large fraction of C, the pilot seems to have wanted me dead, and I'm lookin' for any and all allies to keep me alive. Why would that not make sense to you?"

"It does not matter if it makes sense to me, the one who sent for you will decide if you are as you say."

I roll my eyes and shake my head in disbelief. Unfortunately, my stomach needs me to forgo privacy and I head for the corner.

…..

"How many more jumps until we meet our special someone?" My question is more to kill time that an expectation of an answer from my new warden.

He surprises me with, "We are in system after that last jump."

I think through the systems a jump away from Terra and figure that both Goss and Kilian are unlikely. I hazard a guess, "Kiel or Baker?"

He shakes his leathery head and does that Xi'An chuckle thing, "You were out for a while, Shawn Ryan. We have arrived at Rihlah."

"What? Why am I out here? They may be tying to kill me, but who gave you the right to haul me over the border?"

"You did."

"The hades I did."

"You accepted an Imperial contract. According to its terms, we have the right, even the responsibility, to rescue our contractors from danger."

"Well, why didn't you just leave me at the embassy?"

He looks at me like he did early in our first meeting; it is a cold almost lifeless expression that is a bit unsettling. In perfect English he says, "Because 'rescue' is such a flexible term and we wish to apply some of its more arcane concepts."

"Well, there's some misleading fine print and that's no lie."

"You are wanting to make things easier? Answer all our questions."

"Ask."

"Our, not just my. Once we are onworld, you will have your chance when we are assembled."

"Will I get to talk with Kree'Gna?"

"No. Maybe after. You will not get coaching from him or anyone else. You are isolated from help and alone."

There is a chill in his tone that leaves my stomach on a fast elevator down. I'm tempted to put on a false bravado, but I'm not a good liar and I have no doubt that he will know.

…..

The feel of real gravity is good and walking helps release some of my tension. The fact that I'm walking between two strong naval types down a long corridor doesn't reduce the relief. I may be walking to my doom, but at least it isn't in a box and I still can hope that I can persuade whomever that I am not a spy or whatever. The tube is well lit and seems to go on forever. Ever so often, there are smallish portals offering quick glimpses of the planet outside.

Thing is, even seeing out doesn't help. I don't know where we are, or even which planet this is. All I could tell is that this isn't a port city. It seems temperate, but there were what looked like snow-laden hills not too far away. Of course, that could all be projected and I could be just outside the main spaceport, but it would take an extreme conspiratorial mindset to go so far.

Walking along, I unexpectedly find myself thinking about Gloria and her smile as I entered the room. Something about that smile bothers me; she knew that she was happily about to betray me to their interrogators without batting an eye or coming to my defense. Now that I think about it, I wonder why she never spoke up, even to taunt me. For that matter, why didn't she put up a fight when the Xi'An team moved in? Had she already left?

I feel like I'm missing a piece of the puzzle when we finally reach a bend in the tunnel and I glance back... I can't see the landing terminal... how far have I come? Ksan Ko'Kree is maybe ten meters back, confidently watching my escort and I. I try my best not to look nervous, but I suspect I'm failing.

…..

A door slides open and I enter in a dimly lit room with many sitting about a table. I notice two things very quickly: they are all wearing cowls that effectively hide their faces and every one I can see well enough has the 'Seer' glyph on their collar.

A dark shadow approaches, what light there is misses his face completely. He stops and I hear faint laughter.

Slowly, he reaches up to his hood and draws it back... revealing the knarled leather, sharpened teeth, and penetrating red eyes of Dnong Ksack.

Something in me snaps into place; I smile, ignore the implied danger, and boldly greet the cranky old lizard, "Dnong Ksack, Shē'sueren."

There is a hint of what could be surprise in his expression... well, it would have been if it were Kree'Gna. "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren," he says with a dryness that whispers of bones in the desert, a tone completely devoid of surprise. His stare seems to evaluate me again. For at least a minute we stand still, then he turns sharply and over his shoulder says, "Ith lakshore" (roughly translated, "follow me").

I have little doubt he means me; I walk with my head high as if I were unafraid... and perhaps my mood actually helps me let my fear go. I'm here because I was willing to serve my friend; if that is what I wind up suffering for, there are far worse things to be guilty of. My dragonskin boots are silent on the floor, as are whatever Dnong Ksack wears... the room itself is soundless as we move around the table to a place near its head. As I go, I count... there are twelve, no, now thirteen sitting, with two seats open where Dnong is headed plus the one usually considered the seat of greatest honor.

Dnong motions me to a seat and takes the one next to it. Turning to face my perch, I realize that Ksan Ko'Kree is one of the thirteen Seers in repose around the table surface. Okay, I can actually only spot him because he's the only one present who has laid his cowl back, but that gives me two here that I can name. These Seers may be hostile, but names have great meaning to the Xi'An and knowing them may yet help me here.

Silence reigns.

Judging by some of the cowl positions, some of the Seers are looking directly at me, though in this light it might be that all of them are... the shadows must be meant to keep me guessing... or intimidate me... or both.

Something out of my distant past strikes me. This is like being moved into a new bunk house in the RRS compound. There's danger, but maybe opportunity as well. No fear, that is what I learned so long ago; show no fear. What would be the most unexpected thing for me to do if I were nervous or afraid? This crowd doesn't seem likely to appreciate a good joke, and impersonations might get me in even greater trouble. I could sing a song, that would surely startle them... but maybe that would backfire if I choose the wrong song. There must be something.

A lively old tune from my childhood begins to run around in my head like fairies dancing about a fire in an ancient children's tale. The stupid ear worm seems to grow in power and intensity as the minutes drag on with only the faintest sound of my breathing and maybe a Xi'An chuckle or two. Finally, I can't stand it any longer and I start to whistle it.

Every cowl comes around and there is no doubt now that I have their attention. Oddly, I'm just relaxing as the tune flushes away my wariness and worry. It is a happy tune and I have to admit that I'm smiling as much as whistling allows.

To my right a couple bodies down, a deep bass note begins... it resonates through the room and I realize the one making the sound is adjusting it until it is in tune with my notes. It becomes a tonic drone that seems to bring even more life into the tune.

Another voice across the table adds what becomes the fifth and I'm all but dancing as I whistle like I've never done before.

"Enough!" Dnong Ksack shouts all but in my ear. Silence slices the vibrant sounds like a guillotine and I'm left barely daring to breathe, just staring at his wizened features.

A door slides open and a figure in resplendent garments enters. All stand swiftly and I decide it's best to do the same. As the new arrival reaches the seat of honor, the lights come up and I see Civil Service and Imperial NestLine glyphs, plus one I don't recognize. In otherwise muted Xi'An society, the color patterns and saturation in this Xi'An's tunic and robe are like a flood of life. Everyone else is bowing, I do the same. This must be someone important... and I hope not hostile.

It looks my way for what might be a minute or an hour. Finally, a strong and ancient female voice says simply, "Shē'sueren." She takes a seat and all the assembled follow suit, myself included.

The two Seers on either side are whispering and I'm not trying to hear what. It does occur to me that whoever she is, she has no Seer glyph showing anywhere on her person.

"Why did you make those sounds?" she asks me without preamble.

"The whistling?" I append, "Your Highness?"

She smiles, but looks to the Seer beside her. His nose markings seem rather blotchy blue on dark green with just a bit of yellow and red in places. He seems to be struggling with an answer.

Ksan Ko'Kree seems to know their difficulty and speaks up with something in Xi'An that I sure don't understand... but she obviously does and looks again at me. "Yes, the wishing. Why did you wishing?"

Correcting the pronunciation seems pointless, so I answer, "It seemed to me that we could use a tune to relax. It was getting' pretty somber in here. Whatever I was brought here for, I might as well face it with some joy."

Again, there is a consultation.

Blue nose finally states, "You are a strange human."

I smile, "Yup."

This is obviously not the answer he expected.

Across from me, a cowl slips back and the oldest Xi'An I think I've ever seen addresses me, "Do you often chose to make light of serious things? Have you no respect?"

"Shē'sueren," I reply. "I do not make light, but I have not been advised of the nature of my presence here as being so serious. Ksan Ko'Kree has basically said that if I answer all the questions, things will be easier. Why should I be concerned? I have been honest with my friend Kree'Gna and served him to the best of my ability. If honoring a friend so is such a serious matter, then I might as well whistle and have fun because I'm in big trouble.

Something about this surprises the ancient questioner and he looks back at the honored one.

Dnong Ksack clears his throat and all look at him. Staring at me, he asks clearly, "Are you a spy?"


	8. Chapter 7 - What Is Real?

I look Dnong Ksack in the eye. "Well, considering that these MARC folks seem to be using me for intel and you guys are too, then yes, I guess as some basic level you could say I am a spy."

"Do you work for the OES?"

Where have I heard that acronym? "I'm not sure what 'OES' is, sir."

"Office of Executive Services."

"Are they part of MARC?"

There is a hint of testiness in his voice, "I am asking the questions."

"Sorry, sir. No, never heard of them."

"Have you ever worked for the Marsalis Shipping Corp?"

"Name is familiar, but I don't know all the folks I've flown wing for in the last forty or so standards. I bet Kree'Gna could check the UEE Contractor's Master Activity Logs. They tax us with that and I bet they keep the data forever."

The ancient seer across the table makes an odd sound and Dnong looks over at him and does the Xi'An version of a nod.

The old one asks, "Why did Kree'Gna seek you out?"

"We used to fly together, first as partners in my ship, later as a team. In hindsight, I guess he thought he could trust me as well as any human he knows."

"Why did you agree to fly his wing?"

"I enjoy escort work on courier runs. it's all about the speed..."

He leans forward, "Do you still 'enjoy' the contract?"

I know my face has fallen, but a flood of weariness has swept over me. "The honest answer is 'no', sir."

"Why?"

"Aside from suddenly becoming a serious target, it seems like between you folks and the ones from MARC, my life isn't my own anymore. You all seem to have rights to me and I'm stuck because I gave Kree'Gna my word. It doesn't seem..."

The honored colorful one interrupts, "You would wantonly leave an Imperial contract?"

I look her way and truthfully answer, "I'm glad to try to protect my friend, but that was all I signed on for. If that isn't good enough, His Highness should find me unworthy and release me from His contract. Of course, after the MARC folks and your Seers got involved and I got the contract, I actually haven't even been paid... so I could also just consider it breach of contract and leave with my honor intact."

She asks something and I would swear that Ksan Ko'Kree's answer is as close to sheepish as I've ever heard.

To me she says, "We will remedy that oversight."

I bow in her direction, "Mahhragna ith ilxag."

To Dnong, she says, "Tash" (or "Continue").

…..

I don't know how many hours or days I've been here. I'm tired and can hardly remember when I last had a meal or even water. The seers are still watching, seemingly observing my every nuanced expression. The questioning has rotated several times to others, especially the ancient creature across the table.

Right now, it's Dnong Ksack's turn again and hes offering a seemingly endless list of names that I might recognize.

"Fatima Al-Zafira?"

"Waitress at the Mars Covalex platform... no, wait, that is Fatima Al-Aribia. I don't think I know an Al-Zafira."

As if uninterested in my answer, he continues, "Isoruku Matsushima."

"No, sir." Have I maybe ever met any of these folks? I sure don't recognize their names.

"George Herman Ruth?"

"No, sir."

I would swear he is leaning towards me a hint more. In fact, the room is so still I think they are holding their collective breath in anticipation of the next name.

"Jenk Gallen?"

"No, sir."

"Are you sure?"

"If I ever met him or her, I never learned the name."

"Tobias Yakamura?"

"No, sir."

"Nicholas..."

The old Seer across the table makes a slight gesture and Dnong turns to face him. He makes a Xi'An gesture for "No" and Dnong Ksack looks back at me.

"Enough names."

…..

I still don't know any of the Seers' names save the two I already knew when I arrived. I'm starting to wonder if I will live to leave this room. I'm sure from the gurgles and subsonic quakes my stomach is providing that I've been here well past meal time, but I still see no pattern in their questions that might hint at my fate. The questions have been about everything, from my family ties or lack thereof, to my Banu contacts and jump-point knowledge; heck, there were even an odd smattering of questions bent on wheedling out the little I know about the Kr'Thak and Krell.

The colorful honored one suddenly stands and comments, "Molath" (roughly, "dinner"). The rest of us rise and bow. The brightly adorned member of the imperial family turns and exits the way she came in, with no courtesy extended to any of us.

…..

The majority of the Seers have adjourned, probably for food of their own liking. I sit with only Ksan Ko'Kree and one burly uniformed female who is posted at the main door.

"I remember why Kree'Gna likes you so much: you are brutally honest, even when it makes you look bad," a tone of acceptance dances around the edge of his words. "It's too bad those MARC agents don't recognize your worth."

I'm about to reply when the door opens and another uniform carries plates and goblets to the both of us. I see his plate first, needle fish and mo smothered in xi'rrahn; the sauce I like but I hate needle fish and mo isn't much more appealing. To my complete surprise, my nose announces that my plate has steak. Correction, now that it is set in front of me, how about a monstrous prime rib? Flame broiled or I'm daft... and the goblet smells of a wonderful wine, much like those I enjoy most. A little black bottle is set beside the plate, one I'm very familiar with... bearing blood red text bowed about a white skull and crossed bones... the mark of Rat's Blood Reactor Fuel. This stuff is know even among the Xi'An as "the hottest sauce in the galaxy"... it is the epitome of chemical fire to even the most die-hard spicy food lovers, with the unique ability of turning any food nuclear without changing the flavors originally present.

This is a meal fit for... without lifting my head, I glance up and for just a moment could swear I've caught Ksan Ko'Kree with a hungry eager expression. No, maybe not; he is now his impassive self again... but the impression lingers.

The Seer resumes, "I'm beginning to understand that you really are an honest broker, sharing everything with both sides. It is too bad they weren't happy with that, but I believe we should still honor your service and continue the arrangement. Presuming everything checks out, I would like to repay your service with the craft MARC had promised but obviously were not going to give you: a new M50 Partisan."

I've seen the Partisan in the brochure, but it is normally WAY to spendy for my blood. It certainly makes the LX model I drooled over in the Origin showroom look like a weak second.

He continues, "You should be able to keep up with Kree'Gna's Xress much better, and the Partisan model is especially suited to outrunning fire while retaining the ability to shoot back effectively. We might even provide a few toys that are legal on your side of the border as a recognition that you have honored the Imperial Contract so faithfully. Are you interested?"

He seems so casual, but there's an intensity in his body language that belies his relaxed affectations. Something seems so out of place. Maybe it's me, long hours and wearying grilling could just be making me paranoid... but as I look around the now empty room, I remember that just a little while ago, I was getting all the warning signals that I was in serious trouble. Is this their version of Gloria showing up in the middle of the night and making me an offer I couldn't rationally refuse?

Finally, I answer, "This food is best eaten hot. May I think about your offer while I eat?"

"By all means," he smiles back at me.

Watching a spook to understand his real intent is like watching glowing coals to understand the nature of fire: if you are really good at it you may figure it out, but the rest of us are too easily mesmerized by the glow to understand the conflagration it represents. Fortunately, with age comes a certain respect for the fire even when I don't understand all the physics and chemistry involved. Likewise, I have seen enough official types misrepresent things, especially important ones, that I have an innate distrust of any offer that seems too good to be true. I'm completely convinced that I'm not being told everything and would hazard a guess that I'm not even being told most of it.

Across the table, Ksan Ko'Kree is making every evidence of enjoying his meal. I can't tell if he is looking my way when I glance up, but even if he isn't I doubt I'm suddenly off his radar. Maybe I should ask a question or two while he is agreeable... or at least playing at it.

"May I ask you something, Ksan Ko'Kree?"

He is evaluating now. After a long pause while he crunches another needle fish, he replies, "Perhaps."

"What is the catch?"

He seems puzzled, "Catch?"

"You are offering me something you know I may want... but you have not told me the cost. MARC wanted me to gain information, but had no problem with me telling you everything as well. While I think Her Highness expects you to pay me for my services to date, I doubt seriously that she told you to give me an M50 for just to continue the contract. Am I wrong?"

He continues to study me. "Punt," ("Continue,") is all he says.

"From where I sit, I could see what looked like an Inquisition meaning to trap me one minute, and a friendly and generous offer from you the next. It almost feels like that old holo staple: the bad cop, good cop routine. Gloria from MARC may have tried a version of the same thing trying to recruit me. Are you trying to get me to spy on my own kind in some way more than the honesty I'm already agreed to?"

The Seer takes a moment to rub his almost dinosaur-like nose, but while his intense stare continues, he makes neither sound nor further gestures.

I resume, "If I am expected to betray my own people as part of some grand game, I'm not interested. I may be little people, but I still have my honor."

"You like to say what you think."

"Yes, sir."

"And you tell them what they want to know."

"If I know the answers, yes, sir."

"Just the same as you tell us."

"Yes, sir."

"You are a lousy spy."

"I'm not interested in being a spy. I would rather just be Kree'Gna's friend and occasional wing. I didn't ask for any of this."

A long tone like an ancient temple bell reverberates through the room and moments later unseen doors open and the Seers return en mass. Oddly, a naval guard puts a heavy hand on my shoulder in the Xi'An equivalent of a tap on the shoulder. Waving me to follow, she leads to the door I originally entered by.

I rise and take a moment to bow to all present. "Athlē-korr," I say before turning to follow out into the corridor. The door whisks closed behind me and I'm left wondering if I should try to have a friendly conversation with my shadow. Well... honestly... a look her way rather convinces me that it would be a bad idea.

Outside a nearby portal, darkness now reigns. I wonder how dark it is among the Seers in the next room?

…..

Boredom set in hours ago. Actually, I think it's been hours, it is still dark out so at least it hasn't been local days.

I get no signal on the mobi... how can these creatures live like this? All I can do to entertain myself play is Sodoku or Lorii'Khan; unfortunately, after I'd solved one of each, I got bored with subsequent sets. My only change of scenery has been the occasional uniformed Xi'An; they are universally focused on something or other as they stride obliviously by.

My escort seems almost meditative, she has moved so little. I do know she isn't asleep, when I stand to stretch my legs, her eyes follow me even though the rest of her seems carved from stone. I don't test just how far I can go without her coming after me. Heck, I'm still not even sure where I am on Rihlah... or if I'm on Rihlah at all.

…..

At the edge of my perception, a deep vibration is rising. I don't get the sense that it has happened suddenly, just that I've finally noticed it. I'm lying on the floor, resting at the edge of sleep, but I can now clearly hear something vaguely familiar. My guard has come to attention, maybe I need to at least stand up.

I certainly feel stiff, rising is not the easiest thing I can do these days, and the chill stone beneath me didn't do me any favors in the aches and pains department.

Now I remember, it sounds like that urggh thing. Are there males in there fighting?

The sound dies suddenly and the door whisks open. Dnong Ksack faces me with an impassive look, saying nothing.

"How may I assist you, sir?" I ask, figuring the silence is there to intimidate, not to make me any more comfortable.

No answer.

The room behind him is darkened, I can't really tell if anyone is still there or what they might be doing.

Finally, "I will still be watching you. I still doubt you are what you claim." With these words hanging in the air, he turns and strides away.

"Shawn Ryan, please return to your place," a familiar voice calls. I hesitate and am immediately reminded that I'm not alone; my escort firmly nudges me towards the portal.

The room is mostly dark, but as I enter, the lights come up some. Dnong Ksack's seat and mine are the only ones still open. The colorful one is in attendance, and she gestures towards the seat I had occupied. Before I can sit, the ancient seer across the table rises and gestures to me to remain standing.

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I am Toth Anddag, Eldest Seer of the Outer Ring."

Bowing, I respond in kind, "Toth Anddag, Shē'sueren. I am greatly honored."

He nods, "You are a strange creature. We wish to study your behavior as you serve Kree'Gna. It is the decision of the Outer Ring that you are to remain under the Imperial Contract if you so choose. You will be provided with the missing compensation and a human craft as Ksan Ko'Kree has spoken, even if you do not wish to continue the contract. We are aware that your life has been attacked because of your service and our honor dictates that honorable service of His Imperial Majesty's representatives be repaid fairly."

"Thank you, sir. I don't need the ship, I'm okay with what I have..."

He raises a hand to stop me. "It is Her will," he says while bowing slightly towards the colorful one.

"Mahhragna ith ilxag," I offer, while bowing her way and hoping I haven't just crossed some line of propriety... I don't even know her name.

There's a bit of a nod my way but she says nothing.

Toth Anddag, however, does speak, "You have been heard, Shawn Ryan."

I bow his way also.

The Imperial She rises suddenly and all the Seers do likewise. In a moment, She is gone, again without any hint of courtesy to the others assembled here.

"Do you have questions, Shawn Ryan?" Toth asks as everyone else settles back onto their seats.

"When do I get to go back to working with Kree'Gna?"

"After we have provided you with your compensation."

"I have to wait here for that?"

He does the Xi'An chuckle and I would swear that more than a few others do too. "No, Shawn Ryan. You will travel on the Mosh Nog, a small warship that is headed to the Imperial depot at Indra where your new craft will waiting. Unfortunately, the Mosh Nog has an errand or two along the frontier, but it will take at least one a'tēēl (the Xi'An week of ten days, aka. a 'dekaday') for your craft to be prepared so the delay should not alarm you. Kree'Gna will meet you once you have picked up your craft.

"A warship?" I have a bad feeling about this.

"Yes, it is deemed best."

I try to put a spin on my uncertainty that will keep from directly questioning why... "No human food, then?"

"We will provide human food."

I wonder if they are thinking about ten days of Torreele as human food, but I guess it's better than having to sit at table with a dozen or more hardened naval types looking at the stuff they like and having to fast.

"Stuffed into a box again?"

"No, as a guest. I regret that there are no human language fluent officers on the Mosh Nog, but you will have normal dignitary quarters and be able to move about in unsecured areas."

"No one? What if I have questions?"

"You will have to wait to ask until you reach Indra."

If I didn't know that Dnong Ksack seemed miffed when he walked out of this room, I would suddenly suspect him of being behind this somehow. Actually, I guess he still could be. I look down the table to Ksan Ko'Kree, but he is as impassive as the rest of them.

"Do I have a choice to wait for a commercial ship with someone who speaks English?"

"No."

I guess I might as well cooperate, "Okay, where is it and when do I start?"

…..

I'm not an expert on Xi'An warships, but what I can see through the shuttle windows seems to be at least a frigate. Solid and angular, it floats alongside a space-dock where arc-flash implies welding is going on. My escort is still the large female who oversaw me outside the Seer's meeting. We seem to have an uncomfortable silence thing going... I'm still hesitant to try to tell a joke and flirting is VERY not an interest, much less an option. Of course, odds are she won't understand a word even if I speak, and my Xi'An isn't good enough to try a conversation.

…..

My reception is quick and efficient, even if I don't really understand more than the few casual directions the officer gives.

I get a quick tour and the many stations occupied by obviously dedicated crew are rather impressive. The officer speaks calmly, but if I get one word in five, I'm really doing well, and one in ten or worse is more common.

Finally, I am led to my quarters and given a trans-sist; a gadget that translates, albeit poorly at times, Xi'An to something I can understand.

A klaxon, or something very much like it, sounds and I find a window seat... I love looking out at the stars and I bet now will be the perfect time to enjoy that little pleasure.

…..

There is something odd about this trip. I can't put a finger on what, but I'm certain that there are layers of ulterior motives.

We have jumped into a system that I've never seen before, and are moving among warships much bigger than the Mosh Nog... much, much bigger. It almost seems like I'm in the middle of their equivalent of Kilian... I'm thinking especially of the naval yards around MacArthur... though I don't see any actual space-docks here.

It is frustrating; I can't get the trans-sist thing to work very well and my mobi won't connect to anything, so I actually have no clue where I am.

…..

The further we go the more I have to admit that I didn't realize that they had so many capitol ships. There must be at least a hundred in the carrier and cruiser size, plus a myriad of smaller craft, both the seemingly tiny fighters and the only somewhat larger corvettes.

You know what's the most odd? We seem to be milling around near the jump point; it is as if an exercise were about to get under way or has just finished. If you had asked me before now, I would have guessed that all their naval assets together wouldn't be this big, but unless I've been jumped into the middle of an invasion fleet with almost their entire armada assembled, I was wrong.

We are approaching a massive craft, I think they are planning to dock. It must be a carrier half again larger than a Bengal, several fighter class craft are coming out of a couple different openings.

Yup, we docked. So much for my view now, I'm facing a weapons turret in the middle of a field of armor plate. I walk into the hallway, looking for a place to see out the other side, but before I can, I'm met by an officer who gestures and leads me back to my quarters.

I cynically note that the trans-sist isn't working... again. Now that I think about it, these things usually work both ways, but this one obviously doesn't. Well, actually, if I could read all the glyphs, I might be able to figure out what is going on, but without a mobi, I'm not good enough at reading conversational Xi'An to get past the first dialog.

…..

The door chimes and a female officer with a very young attendant enters. She bows and says something along the lines of, "Please forgive the interruption. Your food is here," while waving the attendant towards the table.

Hmmm... I was expecting Torreele, but this smells like grass fed beef done right over a flame.

The officer says something about the captain, maybe that he sends his greetings. Then I understand clearly when she advises me that we will jump again in a little over six standard hours. Good, I have time to eat without getting sick.

"Gath," she finally offers as the two of them bow. They turn for the doorway as I look over upon the glorious steak. That is a 600 gram slab of meat or I'm a fish. Even better, perched nearby is a bottle of Rat's Blood... probably the same one from the Seer's table. I have to admit, even with the pathetic view, I'm smiling.

…..

In the past four days, I seem to have been carted across the unknown of Xi'An space, five jumps in all. I have to believe that there are ulterior motives, this trip makes no sense otherwise. Maybe I'm supposed to report on the size of their fleet... in every system there have been numerous caps and uncountable smaller craft.

I'm beginning to wonder if I've been through the unseen Kr'Thak frontier? If so, I have to consider two more things: first, have we ever seen this kind of firepower and second, how much more dangerous must the Kr'Thak be if the Xi'An dedicate so much firepower to defend against them? This is easily several times more craft than we field against the Vandies, at least of what I know.

I'm also wondering how our fleet would manage against such overwhelming firepower if it were turned on us. Maybe that is why I'm out here... to say that when I'm asked by Gloria or whomever replaced her if she was taken out by that Xi'An rescue team.

Questions. I sure seem to have a lot more questions lately than I've found answers. I feel like I'm a pawn being moved, without anything like the real reasons why being offered. It stinks, but I'm not exactly in a position to arrest my trajectory... am I?

We are stopped at a station in a moderate geosync orbit around a green world called Eealus. I know this because I've been told in Xi'An that I actually understand; I guess all those years with Kree'Gna trying to decipher their language have made a little dent, at least with the simpler things... like numbers and place names.

This place is their primary 'nature preserve'. While I've never been down there, I remember reading that it's supposed to have a representative of every life form from every Xi'An world. Kind of a cross between a zoo and an anti-extinction enclave. I have to wonder about the cost of maintaining a world just for that, but they seem quite serious about it.

It is actually nice here, other than a rigorous customs search, I have gotten to enjoy the view for the first time in days. There aren't any warships even close to us... at least none I can see, and my cabin portals have a glorious view of the planet seemingly parked below. I do think we had a craft fly down to the surface, but I honestly don't know and no one invited me to join in, so here I am.

The door chimes and the one consistent pleasure on this trip arrives. Steak, flame broiled, medium, with nothing but Rat's Blood and a pint of Guiness to accompany it. Either they are fattening me up for some sacrifice or they're trying to keep me from getting too curious or too anxious.

…..

We are jumping again.

As a pilot, jumping's not a sensation that really gets to me... well, unless I've just eaten. I can't say the same thing about the feeling as a passenger in a strange ship, much less waking up to it in bed from a sound sleep. I feel drugged and cold, dizzy and disoriented, lost and at least a little frightened.

On and on it goes. I'm trapped in my couch, every attempt to find the floor is stymied by an inability to establish balance.

This is the forth jump since Eealus; we have to be close by now, I thought Indra was only a couple jumps from Eealus. I'm convinced that this is some kind of propaganda trip, but exactly why is beyond me. There seem to be a lot of the same kinds of ships in almost every system and I think I've even seen a carrier with imperial glyphs in three of them. I know I'm probably getting senile, but I would almost swear that the imperial barge was identical, maybe even the same ship... but why something like that would be following me around seems beyond comprehension.

The Mosh Nog groans like a woman in... um... well, nevermind. Anyway, it's howling up a storm, complaining and bucking at things my view leaves unseen. I have no doubt the Xi'An computer knows its business, but this really is unnerving not being in control or at least having a cockpit view.

While I lay here, I suddenly remember Tina, the Warden's daughter at the RRS compound. She was young and so was I... (sigh)... and that was a long time ago, four decades, maybe.

It is an odd time to feel lonely, riding some kind of quantum string thing that I barely understand across distances that defy light, letting this ship play thief to time.

I have no reason to think of Dora and my response to her, but she sneaks in unbeckoned to follow Tina. Her face comes close enough to smell, her body heat radiating where we touch.

Now I find a long line of a faces... and bodies... playing with my mind, throwing unmet yearnings at the wall of my life to splatter there in a depressing tangle.

What can I do when I can't escape my own mind?

…..

Mercifully, the jump has just ended. I rise quickly and dress, preferring my black jumpsuit to the alternatives. My portal shows us clear of the jumppoint, with what look to me to be a Night Witch squadron flying close enough that I need only my eyes to identify them. Oddly enough, there seem to to no other naval vessels; as with Eealus, we are being left relatively alone. I try my mobiglas and... YES! I have a SIGNAL! JIX!

Indra it is, my little device shows... and I realize the appropriate expression is "Finally!"

…..

I no longer suspect that I was supposed to see something, now I'm sure of it. Disembarking the Mosh Nog, who would be waiting for me? If you guessed Ksan Ko'Kree, you have scored perfect. Ok, he took the direct route and I got the tour... and why do folks get tours, you may ask? To see the sights, of course. And since the only sights I saw for days were those of warships, I have to suspect it was a not so subtle message to whomever will question me on the other end.

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren," he offers, though I doubt how much peace he intends me.

I respond appropriately, "Ksan Ko'Kree, Shē'sueren," but just how true to that phrase am I being? For that matter, how honest can I be, stuck out here on another Xi'Am platform without an ally in sight? If Shē'sueren means what I learned years ago, then aren't both of us approaching the situation with less than the pledge of honor and truth Kree'Gna told me it represented?

"Please follow me, Shawn Ryan."

Xi'An appreciate honesty, maybe now is a time to display it.

"I am troubled, Ksan Ko'Kree."

"About what, Shawn Ryan?"

"What the trip I have taken was meant for? You obviously were not on my ship, and yet you are already here. I have been confined to quarters for most of the past dekaday... er... I mean a'tēēl, with nothing of interest to look at other than Eealus from above. There were no comm links available and no one who spoke English. Oh, and that trans-sist they gave me is the most worthless piece of crap, it only worked when I already knew the answers."

All this time, Ksan Ko'Kree simply smiles and does a pretty good imitation of nodding in agreement.

"Was the food acceptable?" he finally asks.

He has changed the subject. Blatantly. Either he isn't interested in answering, or he thinks I've answered my own question. Well, I guess there could have been other reasons, but none come to me right now.

"Yes, the food was excellent. As I was unable to compliment them directly, please extend my compliments to those who prepared the meals."

"It shall be done, Shawn Ryan."

We walk in silence, just the two of us... no escort at least. While he is no Vandie, I have to admit to myself that his obvious physical condition means he would have little trouble taking me out in a melee. Yeah, I know they don't do that kind of thing... normally.

"Perhaps you have seen things your kind do not see," he says without preamble. "But first, I must ask: You distrust me... why?"

I stop and he turns to face me, his features unreadable.

"Because you have given me no real reason to trust that you are not manipulating me just like Gloria did. Or that the Seers are thinking about me any different than the folks with MARC do... or did, I've got no idea what they think now. You should be honest with me, you have not trusted me since Kree'Gna first introduced me and you agree with Dnong Ksack that I must not be what I claim."

"For humans, you are old. For us, you are still immature. But unlike many of your kind, you are honest. It is hard for us to let our prejudices go so easily. Still, somehow your friendship with Kree'Gna moved you past the mindset of lesser humans. Toth Anddag spoke the truth when he said we want to study you. If more humans could be encouraged to be like what you seem to be, our empires would be forever at peace."

"So you show me eight or nine days of warships? What, you expect our prideful military to hear about it from some old guy who never served and think they should make peace?"

He laughs, turns, and starts walking again.

After I catch up, he replies, "No, Shawn Ryan. You saw Xi'An strength, but you do not know how much of it you saw, or even if we were moving the same ships for you to see in every system. I admit, your mobi was jammed so that you could not record anything; your memories are all that your interrogators will get when they grill you.

"No," he continues, "the trip was for us to watch you when you are obviously not in control. As a minor reward for your participation in that little experiment, you have seen something that many in your government appear to wish to find: the front lines of the Spirit War."

"Why would my government want to see that?"

"Because not all of them trust us. They seem to think the Kr'thak..." here he makes the Xi'An equivalent to an expression of disgust, "... could be allies of a sort. They know not what they wish. You will make peace with the Vanduul before you make allies of the Kr'thak."

We round a corner and it is suddenly obvious where we are going: a brand spanking new M50 Partisan, decked out in stealth black with Kree'Gna's glyphs and my own marks of the Goose and the High Cross.

Ksan Ko'Kree smiles and gestures to the craft, "Would you like to examine your new vessel?"

…..

From the outside, the new M50 looks like a crawling black bug compared to the much larger craft elsewhere in the gallery. The Partisan model stock has twin neutron cannons and twin missiles, but this one has dropped the missiles in favor of the Xi'An version of my long range tanks. I've never seen this type thruster before; they look unique, more Xi'An than my usual mods. I can only guess the final stage in front of the plasma nozzles is an afterburner of sorts, but like the thrusters, I have never seen their like. No, now that I think about it, I'm wrong... the tail of Kree'Gna's Xress has those same things... I think.

She sure is tiny, I guess that's tactically a good thing. It'll certainly be harder for missiles to get or maintain any kind of visual tracking lock, heck she's half the size of the 350R and black as night in the void. EM will give them a better chance, but the hull has that fancy Void Armor like the stealth Hornets use; only IR will really work well, and then probably only when it is staring down my tailpipes.

But let's face it, she wasn't designed to be a true stealth bird.

The more I look at her the more obvious it is... the simple reality is she will do one thing exceptionally well: go very fast. Not as fast as a Xress, it's true, but then again, a Xress can't maneuver for beans unless it is down into an atmosphere. That's why wingman is so important to Kree'Gna. Well, that and at least his wing will usually have weapons capable of engaging targets in space. The comparison of the M50 Partisan with my 350R is closer, but with less mass and at least equal thrust, she will accelerate better and hit max faster.

She is not, however, what I'm used to. I won't get to sleep aboard, and using the facilities is... well, the M50 has a hose and... let's just say a guy can only take care of personal... er... necessities with no small discomfort. I grin to myself for a moment, it could be worse; I can't even begin to imagine how women survive it, and I probably don't want to find out. Sure as heck don't plan on asking any female I know about it.

All these thoughts bring me back around to one conclusion: without living space aboard, they are giving me a craft all but designed to keep me from wandering off to explore. I have to wonder if it is for my own good or theirs.

…..

I finish my walk-around and climb the stairs up to the cockpit. Beyond the craft, I can see at least a couple of the crew who seem to keep looking my way, and Ksan Ko'Kree talking with an officer.

The smallish cockpit is designed to make everything needed to control a craft moving at three to five thousand kilometers a second, plus a few small additions that look like Xi'An manufacture. I wonder what Duncan will sound like in this. It sure is a fancy bird, nothing but the best and lightest, all the things a 350R has, but with a tighter layout bent on function as well as performance form.

I hear the equivalent of a Xi'An clearing his throat behind me and turn.

There is Kree'Gna! His expression is his version of a warm smile, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

I scamper down the ladder and offer a rather modest bow, "Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren. How have you been?"

"Chash'anori." He pauses, then adds with a bit of dramatic flair, "And you?"

"Chash'ambosari. Had some interesting experiences since we last talked."

Now he laughs, "I bet. Let's get some food and talk, Okay?"

"Lead on," I reply and realize for the first time in a long while that I'm relaxing. Turning, I see the crew going about their business, and an officer standing about where... well, no Ksan Ko'Kree. Why am I not surprised?

"Come on, Shawn Ryan. I'm hungry."

"Coming, boss."


	9. Chapter 8 – Questions and Doubt

Nothing goes down like a good prime rib with a pint of Guiness. Well, that's how I see it, anyway.

The one I have in front of me could be from Earth raised and pasture fed beef, slow roasted over an alder fire. Sure, I miss the bottle of Rat's Blood and have instead poured some of Kree'Gna's favored xi'rrahn on the side to dip it into; thing is, this one is good enough that I'm just using the local sea salt as I stuff myself with mouthful after mouthful.

Kree'Gna is watching me, seemingly fascinated by my ravenous approach to the meal. Finally, as I finish my last bite, he asks what I've suspected, "Did they not feed you on your journey, Shawn Ryan?"

I swallow and reply, "Yup. Pretty steady diet of good meat, too."

His head tilts just slightly and I can see he wants to ask why. Rather than make it an issue, I continue, "No, I'm just glad to eat without worry that something is wrong. It has done wonders for my appetite."

"Ah. I understand." I'm not sure his expression supports his statement, but I'll let it drop.

"So, where are we off to now?" I ask.

"Terra. I need to see the Diplomat and I believe you need a few days planet-side to recover from your travels."

"Okay."

"I'm making sure we build in enough time for MARC to debrief you. Maybe while you are on-world we can further our investigation into the who and why of the attempts on your life."

I had almost forgotten about that. "Are you sure you want me flying your wing? I'm not that big of a help."

"Yes. Are you having doubts about the contract?"

"Yeah, all the time. But I have since Gloria first showed up."

"It is not what you expected, is it?"

"Nope. Not sure I would have taken it if I'd known then what I know now... but then again, it's good to be working together again, Kree'Gna."

"Yes, it is good to work with you, Shawn Ryan. When will you be ready to depart?"

"I'd like a few hours to sleep and let my meal settle. Don't want to do another round of Croshaw's."

He chuckles and nods.

…..

The M50P is an unqualified speedster. She accelerates like a bolt of lightning and twice in the last couple hours she has taken me to tunnel vision before I've realized I have that many Gs on. If it weren't that I hate the constriction of the pressure suit squeezing blood back towards my brain, I might have taken it up even further, but blackout isn't any place let myself get to with three and four thousand kilometer per second speeds. I do wonder what Kree'Gna experiences in the elegant Xress as it still easily pulls away from me... though not quite as quickly as it did when I was in other craft. I wouldn't have thought that the extra few thousand pounds would increase my inertia so much, but with much the same engine and thrust components, this ship screams away from the jump exits more swiftly than even the 350R.

…..

"Diplomatic courier Kree'Gna and escort, please hold for recognition," the UEE Navy patrol instructs.

"We copy and are complying," Kree'Gna answers and we slow to a relative stop.

"Escort M50, we show Xi'An tech aboard your craft. I show your craft tags recently updated as well, you may either submit to a scan or return to Xi'An space."

I laugh, "Scan away, Sir." Only a moment after I've spoken do I wonder if there is anything they have put on here that I could get in trouble for. Moments pass into minutes as my own sensors show I'm getting enough radiation to probably identify my DNA and measure how much dirt I have under my fingernails.

"We show the craft recently reregistered to Shawn Ryan of Terra. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you Shawn Ryan?"

"The same, Sir."

"Are you a UEE Citizen?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you also a diplomat to the Xi'An?"

"No, Sir. I'm under contract to escort Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna of the Xi'An."

"Are you aware that you are currently not registered as a foreign agent, but that your new craft has the Deputy Diplomat's markings? As such, you need to register with your local UEE office of Xeno Affairs."

"Can I take care of that once I'm back home?"

"Please stand by."

On our private connection, Kree'Gna comments, "I did not think of the possibility that they would accost you over a new ship."

"Just playing by the bureaucrats rules. It'll all work out." I think I sound confident, but as the minutes drag on again, I start to wonder.

I hear them contact Kree'Gna, "Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna, this is Lieutenant Richard Smalls. May I inquire as to your current destination, Sir?"

"The embassy at Terra, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Sir."

More minutes pass, I remember that both attempts on my life have been unofficially tied to the UEEN... and I'm starting to sweat.

Finally, "Shawn Ryan, you are cleared to proceed on a temporary waver. You will need to register with one of the Terran Xeno Affairs offices within three local business days of arrival in system."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna, you and your escort may proceed."

…..

Terra Prime comes without further incident. Now I'm floating with the night side lit beneath me as I match the Lagrange orbit the Xi'An embassy follows. My shields glow just a bit from a passing CME, and I can see aurora dancing through the polar atmospheres so far below. It really is a stunning sight.

My comms come to life, "Kree'Gna is contacting Shawn Ryan."

I key up, "Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren.

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I am safely aboard. Please take the next four local days off. Payment for contract to date has been distributed as you have requested."

"Thanks, my friend. See you soon. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

…..

It isn't until I'm into Terra's stratosphere headed towards the Torre Nor and my own pad that it occurs to me: the last time MARC wanted to interrogate me, I had to be rescued by the Xi'An... and the latter have set aside four days for Gloria or her successor to show up and do whatever. A second thought follows on its heels: will I endanger anyone I care about by going home? A few nights in New Austin might serve me better, even with the higher than average hangar and bunk fees.

Besides, there's a Xeno office not all that far from Origin Skunkwerks Stadium. Hmmm, I don't think it's either sataball or soccer season... bet I can get a good rate on pad and bed if I'm sly about it.

Okay, course correction and throttle back to Mach 2ish. After putting us on autopilot, I connect my mobi to the ship's link and look at the facility availability. Welllllll... okay, it's preseason for sataball... um... oh, good, the next game is an away at Quasi. A search shows a full selection of hangars with accommodations at relatively reasonable rates... well, for New Austin, anyway.

There is one in an Aeroview complex near the waterfront, not too bad for four days... I allocate it and approve the credits. It's one of those fancy business units, fly-in entry and egress, third story of seven, kitchenette, great view, and a "real queen-size bed"... can you guess what I want to take advantage of first?

I bet whomever knows where I'm going, the credits are a trail that they can't miss; maybe I can keep them from harassing Camilla or Arron. Furthermore, there's a Foodway Market down the street from the pad; I order some supplies and again leave a clear credits trail. The mobi chimes with a reply and I admit to some satisfaction, the delivery should be made almost before I'm done shutting down the engines. Jix!

…..

The bed smells of hydrazine as does the bathroom. Were I to guess, the last occupant had an eject ride just before stopping here. That or whomever does maint on seat rockets. Either way, I open the bay doors for fresh air and crank the ventilation up to nine. The sounds of ships landing and departing from the not too distant Origen showroom dominate the afternoon.

I hear a near approach and look out just in time to see a sparkling new 890 Jump on approach to one of the seventh floor Revel & York penthouse bays. Sleek and classy, they don't call those things yachts for nothing. Bit rich for my tastes, but once in a while I have to admit to admiring them.

The foodstuffs took a bit longer than advertised, but I'm not a grump and give the kid a dozen credits for his time. I put the steaks into the smallish fridge, take the small hibachi and c-coals, and head for a perch near the open portal. Once the heat has started, I peel my diamond shrimp, start some rice, and cut up the scorpion peppers. Peppers go in the c-coals, making a fragrant and potentially painful smoke that immediately attempts to blow directly into my face. I spear the shrimp onto barbee sticks and set them on the peppers to cook up. A noisy Hornet launches from what must be the pad next to mine on the right. I pull the cork on a nice red and pour a small glass.

Ding!

What was that?

Oh, the rice is done. Rice goes into a bowl and the shrimp are done. Oh, my, are they done! Tender but completely cooked, with that combination of chemical heat and that deep smoked pepper taste. One bite and it reminds me of a hot spacecraft thruster with afterburners on.

I eat two dozen and drink a couple glasses before finally closing the doors.

I stand in the shower, letting rivers of hot water drain my tensions. Yeah, there will probably be less pleasant things to come, but at least for now I will enjoy my life one day at a time. One of the settings for the rinse is "rose water" and I let the fragrant stream relax me further as it floats away the remaining soap.

The towels are soft, plush enough that they somehow remind me that sleep is high on my agenda.

Now I'm dry and heading to bed. Maybe tonight they will let me sleep.

…..

I sit up suddenly in the strange dark room. Was that something? Was there anything? I click on the lights and... it's just me and the M50P in this hangar.

The local clock says 0403. This is the fourth time in six hours that I've woken with the adrenaline pumping for nothing. I don't understand, I would have thought someone would be here by now. I hope they aren't hurting Camilla and Arron. Maybe I'll swing by in the morning to check on them and let them know where I am so they can tell any questioner.

I turn the lights back off and sit for a while looking out across the hangar. There is a small row of blast-proof windows that face out over the river; one or both of the moons is shining in through them, painting the floor with a luminous silver that makes hard edged shadows. In the almost dark, my breath and my heartbeat are all I hear.

…..

Day has come and I'm undisturbed. Well, at least by real problems, my imagination is more than making up for it and my sleep has suffered markedly. I wet a towel with hot water and hold it to my face. No, it won't make the wrinkles go away, but it sure feels good.

Today I go down to the Xeno office and get registered or whatever. Seems pretty stupid to me. I mean, they tax all my contract payments, well as far as I know they haven't stopped taking my taxes out, I guess I should check on that. Anyway, you'd think they would have all that stuff automated so they know that I'm working for the Xi'An when they take the taxes from those payments. Oh, well... three things in life are guaranteed: death, taxes, and bureaucratic idiocy. (sigh)

I put on some walking boots and comfortable clothes. After a quick bite of breakfast, I grab every data chip I can find that might be asked for by whatever official peon wants to ruin my day. The M50P sits there in the quiet and I have to admit she looks sweet. I need to get another copy of Duncan for her and set up some security, but for now, I think the hangar security will have to do.

At the door out to the stairwell, I push the security protocol from "Respectable" to "Paranoid" and leave the palm print and tiny pin prick smudge of blood on the appropriate interfaces. As the door closes behind me, I wonder what I might be overlooking.

Down, down I go. I'm sure glad I didn't get the top floor. I can see the arena fairly close at hand and a quick check of my mobi indicates I'll have less that two kilometers to walk to get to Xeno Affairs.

The breeze is fresh and there are plenty of birds in the trees talking with each other about whatever birds find interesting. Bet if I could understand them, half their chatter would be about sex and the other would cover who has what. Not all that different from a lot of folks I've met over the years.

My mobi chimes with a message. Ah, Camilla checking up on me. She sure is a gem, Arron really lucked out with her.

I call the plantation office and herself answers, "Torre Nor Tea Gardens, how may I help you?"

"As if you couldn't see my face on the incoming."

She blows a long noisy raspberry at her mobi, showing a sense of humor that I appreciate. Finally, she replies, "Oh, is that you? Been so long since we saw you, I almost forgot what you look like. You're pretty old, you know that?"

"Thanks. Been gaining weight?"

"Oh, that's low."

"Yeah, I guess so. Sorry, Camilla."

"It's okay. Just don't let it happen again," she laughs.

"I was going to call you to let you know where I'm staying while I'm planetside... in case someone asks."

"Why aren't you staying here?"

"Trying to look out for my friends."

"You in trouble again?"

"I never know anymore."

"It's that woman that smushed my roses and begonias, I bet."

"I actually don't know who anymore, but I'm not giving them a reason to go after any of you. I'm sending you the details right now."

"Okay..." I can almost see her reading as the address must be scrolling across her glas. "New Austin? You're twenty minutes away. I'll have dinner on tonight and it'll be spicey..." There is a grin in her voice, she knows how much I like her hot cooking.

"I'll think about it."

"Be here at seven, don't make me tell you again." She laughs again and adds, "Okay?"

"Okay."

…..

Bureaucracy. The bloated underside of our government. Forty billion rules each designed to address that one time four hundred years ago that one person got over on the government at the expense of the billionsof us who have been buried by the result ever since. The royal pain that insists it is needed, and makes every minute dealing with it into something akin to wrestling nude with a hungry Vandie. Yes, this is my government, the UEE.

If it weren't that there are at least a dozen others moving about through the same series of clerks and kiosks, I would have thought it was just some stalling tactic while MARC or whomever lined up the hit man. As it is, I now know several fellow travelers by name, and most of their stories.

There is Joseph, two in front of me at most of the lines. He was flying long haul for what is now a Xi'An owned parts supplier to the MISC Freelancer assembly lines. Seems his cross border license was for him to be flying for a human enterprise. Would have been nice if someone had told him that the merger his old company went through would put him in the path of 30,000 UEC in fines. Seems the powers that be here in Xeno determined that he should be fined for each run from the point the company was under Xi'An ownership. I just had to roll my eyes at that one.

Across from me in the current waiting room is Flora. A willowy two meter giant, she tried to bring Xi'An body armor across the system under contract to the Navy, no less. No one told her that a one time run needs all the fancy paperwork. And like me, she thought the taxes that come out of our pay was all we were expected to contribute. Wrong.

Which reminds me, I owe 14,000 in credits myself for supplemental taxes and fines. Fourteen THOUSAND! I feel like I'm paying for the Synth World all by myself. It's a wonder we have any dealings with the Xi'An at all, considering how difficult our own people make it. Oh, and did I mention that I've been here for the better part of seven hours? Seven HOURS! Judging by the efficiency I've seen so far, I bet I'll be expected to be back again tomorrow. Maybe Kree'Gna giving me four days won't be enough... I'll need a vacation just to recover from paperwork burnout.

…..

Camilla's idea for dinner is exactly what I need after the zoo at the Xeno Affairs offices today. I've been here all of twenty minutes and already the cares of the day are washing off with the dirt and soap in a steamy hot shower. There are clove bud sprigs hung near enough the shower head that the hot moist air takes on a festive spice scent. All in all, the best reasons to breathe seem part of my experience. Yes, I do still have to go back tomorrow, but at least this moment right now is about refreshing.

I think I need to banish the mirror from my bathroom. It seems to think the guy drying off with a thick warm towel is old and worn but that can't be me... can it? (sigh). I guess if it isn't, then whomever that is is doing a good imitation of my movements and expressions.

No, that's me. The bravado seems to fade as I look myself over. Mostly, I see my face... my eyes harrowed and haunted as they stare back at me from under the hand towel I have draped over my head. I really never wanted all of this to happen. Whatever became of my simple life? Okay, it was financially complicated, but that was nothing compared to this mess.

Finally dry and too disgusted with the mirror to endure it any longer, I return to my room and don a real linen shirt, cotton denim pants, and a pair of Roman sandals. No, they don't actually come from Rome... well, I don't think they do anyway... well... whatever. So dressed, I head downstairs towards the food smells and laughter.

…..

"Here, take these plates to the table," Camilla orders while pushing a stack of everyday plates into my hands.

"Five place settings?"

"Yup. You, Arron, Me, Gloria, and Brother Patrick."

I almost drop the plates on the floor. "Gloria?"

"Yup. I invited her."

"Gloria?"

"Tall, bald, mischievous?"

"Mischievous?"

"The one who you said was visiting you without you having much say. The one who killed a bunch of my flowers landing like a dolt in the garden. That Gloria."

"You have got to be kidding me. She nearly got me killed."

Camilla looks at me like I must be daft but says nothing.

"Gloria handed me over to a bunch of torturers who were intent on beating whatever out of me."

"What?"

"I don't know, I had barely come to when the Xi'An showed up and rescued me... though they sounded like they were going to kill me, too. At least at first."

"You aren't making any sense, you know that."

"Trust me, I'm making perfect sense."

"Well, we'll see if she is so tough tonight. You know, she did hear me complain about her killing the plants landing in the garden and came by about a week ago during the day with a Dolmain hybrid tea rose, you should smell that one, it is to die for, and a cred chip for replacing the others. She apologized most earnestly..."

On the stove, something is threatening to boil over, interrupting her story. She waves a hand and says, "Get those plates onto the table, we can talk over dinner.

…..

This has got to be one of the strangest meals I've ever chosen to sit down for. I'm at one end of the table and directly opposite me is Brother Patrick. Between us on one side is Arron while Camilla and Gloria inhabit the other. Camilla seems to have orchestrated this seating very carefully, she sits between Gloria and myself.

On second evaluation, I've realized that Brother Patrick isn't some wimpy wall flower. If anything, I bet with the right outfit, he would look more like a retired Marine than anything else. His robe, or whatever that is, seems to fit him in the least flattering ways... but his ease on his feet and apparent strength shine through anyway.

I don't seem to be the only one to notice. Gloria looks at him after swallowing a bite and asks, "Were you always a monk type?"

"Oh heavens, no. Before I came to believe, I was a career Naval Corpsman. I was the guy to patch them up so they could get back to the fight... or at least live to fight another day."

"So why..." her voice trails off and I see that he is aware that all of us are listening intently.

"Why what? Why am I here tonight? Why am I who I am?"

"Yeah... any of them."

"I'm here tonight as a peacemaker."

Gloria is curious and it shows, "Peacemaker? For what, may I ask?"

"It was considered wise to have a kinder, gentler tone available while you and my friend Shawn are here together. I'm the lighthearted person to keep the tone agreeable and the friend of the house if peacemaking demands a more rigorous," here he leans back and with a big grin stretches his shoulders back for just long enough, "means of keeping you both in your corners."

"You're the bouncer?" she asks acerbically.

He looks up at the ceiling, sighs, and looks back down at her, "Yup. Heaven forgive me, but you're spot on, young lady." He spears a piece of meat from his plate and takes the bite while she continues to stare his way.

Looking over at Camilla, he offers, "Camilla, this mole is exquisite. It compliments the meat exceptionally."

"Why thanks, Brother Patrick," Camilla beams.

Gloria doesn't seem amused at all this dinner chit chat and looks my way, "You and I need to talk."

"This seems like a good enough place to me," I answer, then take a bite of VERY hot spiced beef.

"In front of these people? I think..." she stops as she sees me nodding and smiling as if nothing in the worlds could be so natural.

I decide to make life a bit easier for her, "Why don't I just tell everyone where I've been and what I've been doing?"

"That is not advisable."

"I could tell them who you are."

"That is even less advisable."

"You pick."

"Neither."

"Okay, both then..."

"No! Tell your story if you must, but consider the health of all involved before you make further declarations."

"Camilla, dear," Brother Patrick states across Gloria, causing her to lose some of her concentration, "I believe this nice lady may have inadvertently... or perhaps deliberately... have threatened you and your husband. How do you feel about that?"

Camilla pivots to face Gloria and the latter stands suddenly, "Stop this!" she yells.

"Sit, my child," is Brother Patrick's rather condescending response from behind her.

She wheels and swings a backhanded slap his way, but it never reaches her target. At a full arm's length, Brother Patrick has a hand rather nonchalantly grasping her wrist... well, it all looks casual until one notes the struggle Gloria is making to free herself.

"Gloria," Brother Patrick says while standing in a relaxed manner of a confident alpha male, "If you wish to strike me on a cheek, I would rather you start out facing me." He lets go of her wrist and continues, "Now, please feel free to continue."

Crack! That blow would have felled a tree and I certainly could not have taken it and kept grinning... but that is precisely what Brother Patrick has done.

Smiling, he asks, "Would you like the other cheek now?"

I would swear that she isn't slapping as she strikes again, but while he does nothing to parry, he shows no effort to again withstand her blow.

"Are you quite done, Gloria?" He asks in a calm voice. "I don't rile easy these days, but I'm sure that if you really want me to have a lot to say at confession, you could eventually succeed."

I can't see her face to know what her expression must be like, but whatever it is seems to have no effect on the affable monk. "Tell us all about it, Shawn," he finally says as he sits back down... and leaves Gloria impotently standing.

She glares my way as I begin.

…..

I've gotten through describing the harrowing chase through the snowball field and have how I sent the message to Gloria, when she interrupts, "I didn't get that message for days and when I did you had already disappeared. On top of that, your ship had been moved to the Xi'An embassy before we could get anyone to examine it."

"That's a lie, you were waiting in that room on the Covalex platform in response to it."

She looks genuinely angry, "I was in no such room."

"You were, too. Layin' on the couch grinning while someone stuck a needle into my neck."

"Shawn Ryan, I was no such place." Her expression changes suddenly, "Did you see anyone else?"

"Nope, but they were there, especially that guy that kept hitting me."

"Why did you think it was me?"

"Because it was," I say, but even as I do, I seem to remember that something seemed wrong about how she looked.

"What did I say?"

I start trying to think back to just before the pain began...

Everyone is staring at me and I realize that I was never sure... it was Ksan Ko'Kree who made it sound like it was obvious.

"I got a mobi to go to one of the sleeping quarters... C16 or 17, not quite sure right now. Door opens and there you were lounging on the couch... but you didn't say anything, you just smiled at me... come to think of it, just before the needle, I seem to remember that your smile seemed odd somehow."

"A double or a holo. Please try to tell us everything you remember, no detail is too small."

"Well, it seemed like a usual off-craft sleeping room, though I rarely use them myself." I close my eyes and try to put myself back there. "You were laying on a couch directly across the room from the door, and I didn't notice much else, it all happened so quick. I'm sure that someone was sitting there, the cushions wouldn't fit to the shape if it was a holo."

"Unless the couch was a holo, too. Go on."

"Oh, yeah, I guess that's right. Anyway, the prick in the neck and then it all started spinning. I do seem to remember a sense of movement to my left side just before the needle, but maybe more of a hint of sound than anything I saw. Then it became a jumble of pains and sounds, I seem to remember that I'd been kicked and punched, but I'm not really sure. One thing I remember was that I couldn't open my eyes."

"You're sure it wasn't a blindfold?" Gloria interrupts to ask.

"Certain. It all went on for a while, then I remember sitting in a chair in silence, hurting all over. Then someone with a very authoritarian voice started asking questions. Oh, and he hit me REALLY hard to let me know what would happen if I didn't answer him."

"Could you see yet?"

"No."

"But you didn't have trouble answering him."

"It was really hard to talk, he didn't seem to want me to talk either... just nod my head yes and no..."

"Probably norphenathain."

As she says this, I see Brother Patrick nod in agreement.

She continues, "What did he ask you?"

"Well, he didn't get very far, the Xi'An seem to have stormed in and rescued me."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah... they got me out of there and... well... spirited me away to Rihlah."

"Did you hear any fighting?"

Come to think of it... "No, I don't remember any."

"Sounds of the door opening?"

"It's all kinda hazy... but no, I don't seem to recall any."

"Weapons discharge?"

"Well... no... but couldn't they have used darts or something?"

"Yes, if they were already there."

Her logic is painfully solid. I didn't hear any sign of interruption before the interrogation abruptly ended. Things aren't always what they seem, are they?

Brother Patrick breaks the train of thought, "What happened after that?"

Gloria seems very interested and leans forward, "Yes, please tell us what happened next."

…..

There have been no interruptions, they are all intently following my adventure in Xi'An space. But the mention of the UEEN patrol and me having to register with Xeno Affairs finally brings a reaction from Gloria... disappointment.

"OES will have you now," she says with marked disgust. "It's bad enough that I've been compromised, but now we'll lose you just when things were getting interesting."

"What do you mean?"

"The Xi'An showed you parts of their territory that I don't think we know about and let you see a side of their military that we have only hints of. It was a show, meant for us. Actually, they tried first to get you on board, to actively owe allegiance to them. You resisted, but I doubt they have given up. Your new bird is part of them trying to further the offer. But they also know you've been attacked and probably figured they would make you valuable enough that if we could stop the strikes we would. Only MARC doesn't operate that way, even if you were one of us."

"Meaning?"

"You are registering as a foreign agent. OES is running background on you, probably even as we speak. They will assign someone to you; I doubt that they would take anyone with so little trade-craft as an actual operative. Actually, that is a good thing if you've read Dnong correctly. Were OES to actually recruit you, I doubt that one would let you live through your next encounter."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Get reassigned. Whoever actually executed your abduction knows enough about me that my Librarian will probably have me moved. Whether he will want to continue direct contact is up to him... or maybe the Committee itself. OES doesn't know our true capacity, and we will most likely not want to risk parallel contact when we can simply skim their data off after they have it."

"No more chances like Dora, huh?"

Gloria laughs, "Probably not."

Camilla looks my way as does Brother Patrick and suddenly I'm a little self-conscious. "Oh, never mind."

Gloria nods just a little and I see a bit of smile. "Of course, far be it for me to try to hinder romance."

Now Camilla speaks, "Romance? What have you been up to, Shawn?"

I suspect I'm blushing a little, "Nothing happened, just a distant interest."

"You behave yourself, old man," she scolds.

I sigh. "Yes, mom," is out of my mouth a moment before I realize that I didn't say "Ma'am" the way I meant to.

They are all laughing, even Arron.

Chuckling, Brother Patrick chimes in, "Camilla, you hold you age so well, I would have imagined you were much younger than that."

"I'm an ageless woman, Brother Patrick." She turns sideways to him and strikes a dramatic pose, "Couldn't you tell?"

Everyone laughs... even me.

"Question," Brother Patrick states in a suddenly serious tone.

"Yes?"

He looks back and forth between myself and Gloria. "Do we know yet whom Shawn's attackers have been?"

"Data is inconclusive," Gloria begins.

"How so?"

"Tags are all tied to our Navy, but not only were they stolen, the Navy grid has been quiet. It isn't them unless someone's getting odd jobs on the side. Not unheard of, but unlikely with such high profile."

Brother Patrick looks at her and suggests, "Someone in the government who is calling in favors from the star boys?"

"That much pull would require a Senator or..." Gloria falls silent and seems to be thinking awfully hard. She casually leans over towards Brother Patrick and whispers something.

"Haa Haaa Haaa haaa haa!" the monk erupts.

Gloria sits back, looking both mad and offended as the brown robed man continues to guffaw almost uncontrollably.

Camilla asks, "And just exactly what is that all about?"

Chuckling, he responds, "She asked me if I was interested in finding out about a job with MARC!"

Camilla starts laughing, too.

Finally, taking a deep breath, Brother Patrick composes himself enough to say, "My dear Gloria, I wouldn't survive a day in a place like that."

"You have a good mind and recognize patterns."

"Oh, I know that. It's my insistence on telling the truth and my complete lack of BS tolerance that would get me in trouble." He states. With a huge but genuine smile he asks, "You have to lie every day, don't you?"

"Excuse me?!" Gloria snaps back.

"My point exactly."


	10. Chapter 9 – What Was I Thinking?

There's a bit of turbulence on approach to New Austin. Thunderheads tower through the dark above the city and its environs, illuminated by regular bolts of brilliant white light. It even looks like I'll be on final in an absolute downpour.

In spite of the attention I should be paying to flying, I'm brooding over Gloria's parting comments. "You need to start watching your back, Shawn. Remember, OES Associates aren't known to have a sense of humor. Oh, and you still don't know who is after your life." She seemed so somber and even... well... almost depressed. She wouldn't say more and I had finally given up. I wonder if she's really serious that she'll get yanked off my case... or what ominous things OES involvement might portend.

I pull up my mobi and find the codes to open the rental's hangar doors and turn on the approach lights. My HUD picks up the landing beacon and I float into the brightly lit cavern. A lake of water falls from the craft as I move back to the landing pad itself. Hope the floor has those self-absorbers, I'd hate to have to mop it.

…..

The hangar is dark, except when the lightning flashes outside. My mind is already playing games with me and sleep has chosen to seek another person to enfold. it's 0230 local and I'm about as awake as I can be. Every thunderclap must be someone attacking. Every gust of wind stealing through cracks in the door seals is a nameless assailant coming for me. Tossing and turning on the otherwise comfortable bed, I finally surrender to reality: I'm totally paranoid now.

I get up, don my flight-suit, and climb into the M50's narrow cockpit. The canopy closes and I lean back as much as I can. How about tunes... ooops, forgot them again. I wonder what the locals are listening to and turn on the frequency modulated unit. Land-bound like these channels and it doesn't take long to find one with haunting but quiet music. I rest my helm with visor down over my weary head and find sleep has returned to beckon me... though I know not where.

…..

I've waited in line at Xeno Affairs for another two hours. This is getting old, maybe I'll be here tomorrow as well.

"Citizen Ryan? Citizen Shawn Ryan?" an attractive redhead at least three dacades younger than myself calls and for just a moment I wish it were for other reasons... but no, I'm eager to get out of here, no use causing even a hint of delay.

"That's me, Ma'am," I say, rising.

She glances my way and I get the impression she already knew it was me. "Please follow me, sir," she says. Her stride seems muted somehow and while walking her figure takes on a rhythm not quite appropriate for an office. Well, for any office I've ever had to sit in... not that there have been that many... oh, never mind.

We walk into an elevator and the numbers seem to be going up. Odd, but it actually feels like we're going down. Must have some serious damper problems to have the inertia so askew.

The door opens into a windowless hallway. Until now, I've been able to enjoy the occasional views while waiting, but here the lack of the sense of New Austin about us adds an ominous overtone, almost as if there were a gloom impeding the lights.

"Where are we going?" I venture.

"You are to have an interview." She says it coldly and I start looking around, trying to take in anything I might need to know later. I even consider turning around for the elevator, but then again, what if I'm just jumpy for no reason and miss my chance to get this over with?

She stops just past a nondescript door. A door with no number or other Identification on it. A door that now opens into a barren room, void of anything but a rather hard looking chair.

"After you," I say, trying to smile.

"You are being interviewed, Citizen... not me."

I look at the place and back at her. "Well, then where is the person who is going to interview me?"

"They will contact you shortly."

The room is taking on more and more of the look of a prison 'shoe', a solitary confinement cell.

"I think I'll just wait out here."

A door whisks open behind me and I sense a presence step up close enough to feel his or her breath on my neck. I wish I'd learned all those fancy martial arts moves and could take apart whomever... but I didn't and now I'm stuck.

She smiles... much too broadly. "You need to sit," she replies pointing to the chair, "There, Citizen Ryan."

I wonder how painful this is going to be. Might as well find out now... I start to turn around and a pair of vises masquerading as hands come down on my shoulders. "In," someone grunts while shoving me roughly through the doorway. The portal slides closed and it's dark. Very, very dark.

…..

I don't know how long I've been sitting on the floor, huddled into a corner of the barren room. My mobi is useless here, it crashed when I tried to access it and the stupid thing won't even boot now, much less connect.

I have discovered there is a faint hint of light at the bottom of the doorway, but it has stayed constant; if that means what I think it does, I'm now all alone. Well... actually, I bet someone is watching me somehow, but I'm not going to give them any satisfaction.

I decide to rest my head on my knees and suddenly the lights are on. LOTS of bright ones. The room is flooded white light and I'm blinded. Okay, maybe it will only be temporary, but I'm not putting anything past the folks concocting this. On the other hand, maybe I just need to try to sleep anyway. Again I lower my head towards my knees. A loud tone begins... it warbles at a frequency obviously chosen for being annoying. An urrgh sounds better than this. I want to scream at whomever to stop, but it occurs to me that such a reaction is just what they desire. I put my head all the way down on my knees and close my eyes. There is a better chance a comet will survive a black hole than I have of sleeping, but I do everything I can to relax.

I think about spring on the plantation, helping pick some of the first flush, saving some special leaves for my personal use. I think about the humming birds chasing each other around my feeders. I think about chickadees hunting for spiders in the rafters. I think about music and the love of the dance.

Finally, I think about the first time I flew my 350 out under the Great Banner. I sense the tensions drain away and relax for the first time since I entered the room.

It appears that whomever watches saw that, too. The lights dim to normal, the sounds stop, and a voice begins, "Good morning, Citizen Ryan. I take it you are ready for us to have a nice little chat."

I can't help myself as I reply, "Well, if you wanted a nice little chat, you might have started out a bit... NICER."

The voice almost chuckles, "That was nice, Citizen Ryan. You need to cooperate with the process or it won't be."

"If you've read my history, you know where you government types stuck me. If you've got worse than that, I bet my age just kicks in and I keel over... then you'll have nothing. Savvy?"

"Are you saying you are not going to cooperate?"

"I'm saying that you are off to a poor start if you want me to."

"Sit in the chair, Citizen Ryan."

"You forgot the magic word."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not your servant. If you want me to do something, you will have to ask."

The tone comes back on and the lights get brilliant. I put my head back down on my knees and begin to think about flying in space again. This is obviously going to be about who is the most obstinate. I'm sure that they have other means of making me cooperate, but right now, it's just a test of wills. I'm likely a heck of a lot older and more stubborn than whomever, and we'll just see about this.

It doesn't take all that long to tune it all out and relax again, and guess what? We are back to no noise and normal lights.

I look up at the room and say to whomever, "You know, old person eardrums can go pretty easily, then I won't even be able to hear when you do ask politely."

Nothing. No response at all.

I expect an answer, but nothing. Probably one of those psych tools to get me to cooperate, but I'm fine with putting my head back down and not letting frustration get me... yet.

My head touches my arm and the voice says, "Will you please sit in the chair, Mr. Ryan?"

My head comes up and I ask, "Why? You can talk to me just fine right here."

"Because it is more civilized for you to present yourself in a chair."

"Just like it is more civilized to speak to someone face to face, isn't it?"

Silence.

I put my head back down. Honestly, I'm grinning. Bet the weenie is getting his shorts in a knot over this.

"Do you understand that you are little people?" the voice asks icily. There is a malicious undertone in that casual question.

Head back up. 'Little people' is a popular term in holovids... bad guys use it for the throw-away types they have no regard for... psychopaths sometimes use it for their victims. That my questioner has addressed me so brings an ire that he may not have intended.

"Then bring it on, buddy. I'm obviously not here about my XA registration, so your whole thing falls apart. I don't cooperate with criminals or sociopaths out there, government or not, and I'm not starting now. Treat me with respect and I'm agreeable, treat me like scum and you might as well start the torture now, because you are wasting your time waiting for me to cow."

"Indeed."

"Yup."

The door whisks open and someone who could bench press an asteroid steps in, grabs me by my arms and throws me onto the chair. I slide off the other side and am moving to the corner when he grabs me again and places me on the chair. My back hurts and I've now got bruises all over, but I decide this may as well end quickly. I twist away and he grabs at me again.

Okay, lets dispense with the polite response, he is much stronger than I am, but I'm not a pushover. When his arm crosses my face, I bite hard, drawing blood and a scream a five year old girl would be proud of.

I feel the blow to my head and then not much else.

…..

I'm having trouble seeing, my face seems numb and I'm very dizzy. On top of all of that, I've got a headache that could fell an elezark. Through this haze a voice begins, "I know you are functionally awake, Citizen Ryan."

As I become more aware, I realize that I'm now bound to the chair in the middle of the room. My wrists are as secure as if they were molded accessories of the cold thing and my calves are likewise part of the legs.

Well, might as well get this off on the right foot, "So, what's your point?"

"You are going to cooperate."

"You can kiss my furry white behind."

"You are going to cooperate," he repeats.

"Hey, you must be paid by the hour anyway, keep saying that for a while."

Silence.

I must not be exactly what they expected.

"You will repeat after me."

"Remember where I told you to kiss?"

"You will repeat after me if you want this to end."

Hmmm. Maybe a wee bit of cooperation would be worth it, just to see where this is going. "You will repeat after me if you want this to end."

"Very good."

"Very good."

"I am Shawn Ryan."

"I am Shawn Ryan."

"I was born on Earth."

"No, I was born on..."

He interrupts quickly, "Repeat what I say."

"But it isn't correct."

"Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

Hmmm, I wonder what he is up to. I answer, "Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

"I was born on Earth."

"I was born on Earth."

"I have an M50 Partisan."

"I have an M50 Partisan."

"I like cute women."

"I like cute women."

"I am forty-five."

"No, I'm..."

"I am forty-five."

This just seems wrong, "I am forty-five."

"I am contracted to the Xi'An government."

"I am contracted to the Xi'An government."

"I prefer Xi'An to human."

"What?"

"I prefer Xi'An to human."

"Look, this is getting weird, you are trying to get me to say all this stuff..." and idea strikes me, they are going to get me to say a bunch of stuff that isn't true to convict me of something. "I'm not going to let you get some audio to splice together and make me look like a crook. Not happenin' bud."

I think I detect a hint of exasperation, barely there, but audible, "I prefer Xi'An to human."

"What do you mean by 'prefer'? I've never seen an attractive Xi'An if that's what you mean."

"I prefer Xi'An to human."

"Bite m e."

"Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

Oh, yeah... well, I guess this isn't something that I'll get killed over. "Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

"I prefer Xi'An to human."

What's the point? "I prefer Xi'An to human."

"I am a Xi'An spy."

"Bite m e. You are trying to set me up."

"I am a Xi'An spy."

"You are? Well, you sure picked a lousy way to show it, hiding out in a UEE Xeno Affairs office."

"Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

"Well, we are going to be here for a while, then."

Silence.

…..

The door whisks open behind me. I feel the tape being cut. The gorilla I bit earlier moves around in front of me just as I realize that my hands are free. He tosses a pair of blunt nosed children's scissors into my lap and backs away.

I look down at the instrument as I flex my fingers, "What, not doing my legs?"

He grins and nods. Pointing to his bandaged arm, "Six stitches. I mean to keep it to that."

"Sorry, sir, but you know I had to try."

"Yup. You're a real PITA."

"PITA?"

"Pain in the Ass. Pretty scrappy for an old dude," he says rather more respectfully than I would have expected.

"Thanks, I think." I guess I should ask rather than assume, "So, I can cut them myself?"

"Yup, go for it."

"Children's scissors?" I ask as I fight through the wrappings on my left leg.

"I wasn't going to give you something to stab me with, now was I?"

"No, I guess that makes sense."

…..

I'm free and muscle man has taken the scissors and left. It is still the same room, still the same chair, and I'm back to sitting on the floor in the corner with my head down.

The door does it's whisking thing and I look up at a middle aged woman standing in the entryway with her arms folded across her chest.

I might as well get this off to a good start, "May I help you?"

"I'm sure you may, whether you will is entirely another matter."

That didn't make a lot of sense as a reply. "You'll have to excuse me, but I've already had more psychobabble than my brain can handle in one day. If that's all you have to say, I'm going to put my head back down."

"We wanted to run a lie detector on you and you failed to cooperate. What do you think we should do with you?"

"I could give you a list, but since your side started out with bullying, I think I'll just suspect you are playing good cop to my previous tormentor's bad one."

"I'm not with the Advocacy."

"And I know that how?"

"Because I told you so."

"So I take your word when you don't trust me enough to take mine? Seems a stretch in human interaction, don't you think?"

"You are the one in contact with the Xi'An."

"Yeah, flying wing for Kree'Gna. Imperial contract. Big whoop dee do. I'm not applying to control a Bengal cruiser or get nuclear launch codes. They've got more reason to worry about me being a spy than we do, don't they?"

She studies me, saying nothing. She's actually pretty in an honest sort of way; there isn't any makeup that I can detect, little or no lipstick, and mousy brown hair just slightly askew as if tossed out of the way a few too many times. I can't quite tell what color her eyes are in this light, but I doubt they detract from the overall effect at close range.

She comes to some decision, "Please follow me."

I manage to reach my feet, but am reduced to shuffling as both legs are somewhat asleep.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asks at my obvious difficulty.

"Just got both legs asleep. Well, that and they seem a little more banged up than they were this morning."

She nods and turns to lead the way down the hall. Just before the end, a portal slides open and she leads into what looks like a comfortable office. There is a large glas on rollers that seems rather out of place, but otherwise, it could even be a formal living room similar to what Camilla keeps at the big house.

She waves me to a comfortable chair as she introduces herself, "I'm Doctor Elsa Wong. Please call me Elsa. I'm one of the evaluators called in on your case."

I bow slightly in her direction and say simply, "Doctor Wong."

Her expression reflects that she has noticed that I've stayed formal. "I take it you would rather I refer to you as 'Citizen Ryan' instead of 'Shawn'?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I don't know you from Eve and I doubt that will change any time soon. False intimacy is just a fool's toy in my book."

She nods.

"Medical doctor or Shrink?" I ask.

A hint of shaking her head at the epithet, but she calmly says, "Psychiatrist."

"Yeah, figured. Dealt with your kind a bit back in the day."

"At the RRS compound on..."

I interrupt, "Yup. Hate even the mention of that hell hole."

"Pretty strong response after so many years."

I know my expression and tone of voice change as I answer, "It should be much stronger."

"Care to tell me why?"

"No." If her game is to make me relive this, the unseen moron in the room before is preferable. "Don't want to relive that even a little."

She nods, "I see."

We sit in silence as she handles a glas tab of some sort.

"Do you mind if we use this kind of detector?" she asks while pointing to the overlarge rolling thing.

"What is it?"

"It is a very sophisticated scanner of physiological activity."

"How about plain English for us normal types."

"I actually know you are not a dunce, Citizen Ryan."

"So?"

"This is a fancy lie detector. It isn't as simple as the chair and requires a better level of training to interpret."

"If they had treated me like a human and not some lab rat I might have cooperated with the chair."

"Really? It doesn't fit your profile."

"The same one you thought showed I would cooperate with the treatment I actually got?"

"It wasn't my profile that said that, or my interpretation of it... but you are correct that the profile was wrong about your predicted response."

Interesting.

"Sure, you can use it as long as I don't think you are trying to trick me into something again."

"They were not trying to trick you, the chair works best by having the subject repeat what is said. True things are obviously different from false ones on the flutter."

"What?"

"Old term for the recording and the lie-detector process in general."

I think about the reading of names and wonder for a moment if the place the Xi'An had me sit on Rihlah wasn't a lie detector chair of some sort.

"I'm still not going to say I am some sort of spy for you folks to make into a confession of something I'm not."

"This glas operates differently. We can talk, I will just be looking through it at you while you speak," she says, while sliding the contraption between us. It sits, something like a shimmering window between us. It's actually rather disconcerting, but hey, if this gets over soon, I'm game.

"Is this acceptable?"

"Yeah, fire away."

"Why don't you tell me what you want to about your history up until you started flying with..." she looks a her tab, "Kree'Gna."

"The first time, or the recent contract stuff?"

"You pick."

…..

"Wait," Doctor Wong finally interrupts.

I've been talking for hours with only a bathroom break and a glass of water. "So, tell me again, that is the woman who came on to you at the platform and she was now sitting on your bed in your bedroom on Terra Prime?"

"Yup."

She looks puzzled, "So, did you sleep with her?"

"No," I laugh, much to her discomfort. "She was there to... well... sorta recruit me."

"For the Xi'An?" the doctor asks, while her expression make it obvious that she doesn't think that makes sense.

"No, for MARC."

"Who is Mark?"

"Some intel types."

"She isn't OES. Advocacy?"

"No, MARC. M. A. R. C."

"Never heard of them."

I shrug, "Well, that's not my problem. The Xi'An obviously had, so I'm not at all likely to think it was made up." A thought strikes me, "And how would you know she isn't OES?"

Dr. Wong smiles and I know the answer to my question.

"Please continue with your story," she finally says and I do.

…..

"So this Dnong character is some kind of senior Seer?"

"Yup. Were I to guess, he is a member of the Outer Ring, whatever that is."

"Why would you think that?"

"He was there on Rihlah when what I guess was the Outer Ring interrogated me."

"Do you even know what the Outer Ring of the Seers is?"

"Nope. I do know that Toth Anddag was there and he declared himself the eldest member of it and the Imperial person in the room did not dispute the claim. I guessed that the rest of the Seers there represented others from the Outer Ring and since Dnong Ksack was there, it fit that he was probably one also."

The doctor seems to be reading something on the big glas between us and silence drifts over us as she concentrates on whatever. The more she reads, the more troubled she grows.

"Is something wrong?" I ask casually.

She looks at me and then back at the place in space that she has been studying. Finally, she all but whispers, "We need to return to your story. You were on the Xi'Shana..."

…..

The door opens and a tall woman and taller man enter. The woman whispers something to the doctor who nods disappointedly.

Dr. Wong looks at me and says, "I'm going to have to terminate my portion of this interview, Citizen Ryan. Your knowledge exceeds my access and I'm going to have to turn you over to Ms. Smith and Mr. Jones."

"Smith and Jones, how original," I opine dryly.

Ms. Smith nods my way and says, "You will follow me, Mr. Ryan."

"You forgot the magic words and that didn't sound like a friendly request."

"Are you hoping for a sense of humor, Mr. Ryan?"

"That would be nice, but I'll settle for a little courtesy."

"You will settle for a lot less than that," Mr. Jones says with a hard edged tone.

I address Doctor Wong, "I'm guessing they didn't take any time to review the results of my time in the room down the hall."

Her brow arches just a hint and her expression says it before her mouth does, "No, I suspect not."

I look back at Jones and reply with a shrug, "Not nice means you need to do what you think you need to. Just remember the lad down the hall took six stitches for his efforts."

"Are you threatening me?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Nope, just giving you fair warning that I'm ill inclined to cooperate with rude inconsiderate knuckle-draggers."

He looks ready to pounce and I steel myself to resist the assault.

"Hold," Ms. Smith orders. Looking me in the eye, she continues, "Mr. Ryan, would you be so kind as to come with us?"

"Very nicely done," I respond. Rising, I nod the good doctor's way and say, "I've enjoyed out little chat, Ma'am. No lies, right?"

She nods.

"Told you I tell the truth when I'm treated with respect." Yes, I've said this as much for the two standing agents or whatever they call themselves.

"Have a nice day, Citizen Ryan," she offers as I follow Smith out the door.

…..

We are riding the elevator again, this time it feels like it's going up and the numbers agree. The door opens and I think we are at of near ground level... if only because there are quite a number of regular looking folks in the hallway.

"Where is your vehicle?" Ms. Smith queries.

"In the rental hangar. I walked over."

"You walked?" she asks without discernible emotion.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Very good. We would like to take you to a more private place to continue a conversation. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Does that mean I'm not getting my registration today?"

"It means that we are not sure you need one."

"Oh."

"We will take you to your craft and ask that you proceed to a given coordinate. I probably don't need to tell you that departing Terran space without attending this meeting would fail to provide any registration and most certainly mark you as a wanted person. Please do not make that mistake."

I think I hear Mr. Jones grumble just before I answer, "Thanks for being so polite about it. I'll go, just tell me where."

"The coordinates are loaded to your mobi's nav."

I realize the mobi has rebooted and appears to be working fine again. I check the nav and indeed it has a set of coordinates for an island some three hundred kilometers west of us.

"No problem. You want me to go straight there?"

She smiles, though honestly it seems more out of irony than any genuine warmth. "Yes," she says, "We would have to insist that you go straight there unless you rather we simply take you ourselves."

We walk out the building doors and I realize it is already rather late in the afternoon. I respond to her, "Nope. I rather have my boat with me."

"Boat?" Mr Jones seems surprised.

"No, sorry. Just abusing my Ori... er... my M50."

"Okay," he grunts as we climb into a small trendy hover with darkly tinted windows.

…..

At the hangar building, we get out and I start up the stairs to my unit. They stand there for a few moments and then head to the elevator. I guess they get enough exercise beating people up and don't need the stairs like I do. Of course, they are to my door just about the same time I am.

"Mind if we come in?" Smith asks.

"As long as you don't mind me changing clothes in front of you."

"I'll look the other way."

"Nothing to hide, come on in."

They follow me through the doorway and I head immediately for the bathroom.

Business taken care of, I emerge to discover that both are looking the M50 over pretty carefully. I change into a flight suit, choosing my old one... the one Kree'Gna thought might be bugged. This could be interesting, or this could get me killed... we'll see, I guess. With the dragonskin boots, I look ready to fly. I gather the rest of my gear, if they keep me too long, I don't want the cleaning crew to take possession of what would be unintentionally left.

"Are you not expecting to meet me there?" I ask, striding towards the craft.

Smith stops looking at the Xi'An thruster mods and replies, "Perhaps."

"How long am I supposed to wait?"

"Until you are contacted, of course."

"Well, have you attached a tracking device or are you planning on riding on the wings?"

Jones icily replies, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Excuse me?"

"You seem to have a misplaced idea that the OES is peopled with impotent fools. I assure you it is not the case. Stop goading us, it is neither funny nor appreciated."

I'm tempted to make a snide response, but something in his demeanor seems a caution and I think better of it. I stow my bags in a cargo hole, walk forward to drop the stairs down and climb into the cockpit. Only as the canopy closes and the stairs retract do the two of them back away a bit.

I key the open codes for the rental bay doors and initiate the Partisan's startup sequence. The comm glas shows that Kree'Gna has tried to contact me this morning, but no message was left. Kinda odd, calling on the craft comm and not following up on the mobi.

The bay doors finish opening and the brilliant late afternoon sun beckons. The M50 responds to my hover and I wave. Only Mr. Jones is still standing there watching me, Ms. Smith is already walking to the front door. Power to the maneuvering thrusters and I'm gliding out the door into the sunshine.

…..

"Ryan to Kree'Gna."

He responds fairly quickly, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"I wanted to check on you; are you having any trouble with your registrations?"

"Lots of trouble. Now the OES is involved and Gloria seems to have dumped me."

"What?!" he responds, seemingly alarmed.

"I saw Gloria last night and she said that OES would probably take over my case. MARC doesn't like working with them, I guess, so she is out... at least that's what she said. OES is indeed on the case, I was interrogated all morning and most of the afternoon."

"Are they done now?"

"Nope, I'm flying to some island at their request to 'continue the conversation' unquote."

"Be very careful of them. I will need to get further instruction on the status of the contract if OES is involved now."

"Oh, why?"

"We already have OES information." The way he says this makes me feel I shouldn't ask anything more about it.

"So you only want me around if MARC is tracking me?"

"I do not know what is desired, Shawn Ryan. It is no longer just up to me."

"Kree'Gna, am I no longer your friend?"

I hear a smile in his voice, "You are always my friend. Whether you remain my wing is what I can no longer control."

"Understood. I still have a day or two, right?"

"Yes, of course. The current schedule is unchanged."

"They have a way of jamming signals, my mobi doesn't always work."

"Yes, the Seers have something similar. Be careful, Sean Ryan.

"Thanks, Kree'Gna. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

…..

Kree'Gna's uncertainty is troubling me. What the heck is going on? Why did I agree to any of this, much less to take a bird that has just gotten me into trouble? Could I have foreseen any of this and avoided it? I'm going off to a place I know nothing about and can't even get good data from the onboard chart glas. What have I gotten myself into? Would it make more sense to point the nose at the sky and run for the embassy to find out just what is up? How could I even have taken the stupid M50? What was I thinking?

I'm racing across the sky, still in the thin blue atmosphere. My main comm comes to life, "Shawn Ryan, we have you on approach. You will power down all sensors and scanning systems. Follow the vector we are sending you." Seems a rather less than professional control tower communication, but I guess this isn't exactly a normal place I'm going, either... is it? "Um, okay, control wherever, doing as ordered."

I'm chasing the sunlight and the island comes into view with just a bit more daylight than when I had when I left New Austin.

My destination seems to be an idyllic cross between a small volcanic "high island" and a classic atoll, with dark strands encircled by rich blue and azure seas, and green trees lining the beaches and climbing the smokeless cinder cone. Closer inspection shows a rather solid looking series of low buildings just beyond the beaches and that not quite so inviting. It is only when I'm on final that I recognize that there are way too many anti-air batteries around. They expect to need to repel an armada, that or they like decorating with missiles.

…..

Before I can choose my own parking space, a ground crewman signals me into a cavernous hangar. I follow his instructions and ahead another directs me to a pad. I set the craft down as instructed and shut the systems off. Placing my palm on the security pad, I select a set of lockouts. I really need to get Duncan installed, this is so unfriendly.

A well dressed man approaches the craft; I exit onto the hard floor, turn, and cheerily ask, "So, when are Smith and Jones showing up?"

Bowing slightly, the black haired man offers, "Welcome, Mr. Ryan. I am Po Shen-zhong. Welcome to our little paradise."

All around me are craft which would suggest a slightly less bucolic assessment of the place, but I see no reason to argue the point. I return his bow and reply, "Thank you for your welcome, Mr. Po."

"Please follow me, Mr. Ryan," he says while turning and heading towards an exit.

Well, at least it isn't some ice planet covered with mind-numbed Marines. Maybe they will let me relax on the beach and get a tan. I think to call Camilla to tell her not to make dinner for me, but my mobi seems to have stopped working... again.

"Mr. Po?" I ask, keeping up with his vigorous stride.

"Yes, Mr. Ryan?"

"My mobiglas appears to have stopped working. Can you remedy that?"

"Of course I can. Unfortunately, we have further business to attend to first. It can be restored later or when you leave."

"Ah. Thanks, I guess." Well, at least he said 'when' I leave and not 'if'... I guess that is a good thing.

Outside the hangar, sunset has begun to paint the scattered clouds with a warm gold.

Mr. Po addresses me as we continue, "Mr. Ryan, I regret that we have gotten so late a start. Would you prefer to attempt to complete the interviews tonight or have a chance to relax and refresh yourself before starting again in the morning?"

"No offense, Mr. Po, but while I'm tired, I'm much more tired of the process. The sooner we can get this over with, the better in my book."

"Would you object to speaking over dinner?"

"Nope, not at all."

"Any menu preferences?"

"Meat with very hot sauce."

"Is Derry's Solar Flare good enough?"

Smiling, I reply, "It'll do unless you have some Rat's Blood."

He chuckles, "You do like it hot, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"We'll see what we can provide. We have assigned you a room in case it is needed, please feel free to refresh yourself there," he says while pointing to a small cottage that seems to back onto the ocean and the setting sun beyond. "Dinner is in an hour and I will need a little time to prepare."

"Smith and Jones not coming?"

He smiles again, "No, here you are my guest, why should I not speak with you myself?"

…..

The shower felt nice, now I'm letting warm sea breezes air dry me as I stand rather unclothed at my back door, facing downhill towards a black sand strand and the surf surging onto it. There is no one else to be seen, so my nakedness doesn't seem likely to cause a problem. Besides, if they are watching me, I bet it isn't something they expect me to do... why not keep them guessing?

An unseen speaker comes to life in the ceiling, "Mr. Ryan, dinner is served. Third building on the right after you leave your front door."

"Thanks," I say to whomever, wondering if they can even hear me.

I slip into my flight suit again and wander down to the building described. At the door, a guard stops me.

"Your suit is bugged," he assures me, looking back and forth between a glas and myself. "You may not wear that in here."

"You guys can jam my mobi, why not my suit?"

"You may not wear that in here," he repeats without any indication that he is going to answer me.

Mr. Po rounds a corner and walks up to the guard. The latter shows him something and he nods. Looking my way, he says, "George is quite correct. You will need different garments for this evening. Would you like something sent over?"

"May I return to my craft and get some out of it?"

"Please, feel free to do so. Dinner can wait a bit if you like."

"You don't have to do that on my account."

"I would prefer to do so, Mr. Ryan. Please go change and we will look forward to your presence."

…..

In spite of moving with a fair amount of speed for me, it has taken thirty-five minutes to return to the door. This time, I'm just wearing jeans and a comfortably loose linen shirt.

George the guard checks his glas and then waves me through, pointing me in the direction of the dining room.

Mr. Po has other guests, including two very attractive young women who might be his daughters.

All rise at my approach and Mr. Po offers, "Welcome, Mr. Ryan. Please sit at that end," while gesturing to the end opposite himself.

"As you wish," I reply.

As I arrive at the chair, they all take their seats. "May I introduce all of you to our guest tonight, Mr. Shawn Ryan. Mr. Ryan is currently employed as a security pilot for one of the Xi'An diplomatic staff."

Seven pairs of eyes look my way as I say, "Good evening, all."

"First, allow me to introduce my wife, Mai and my daughter, Xin." Well, I was right about one of them. The other doesn't look older by much, but I'm disinclined to argue. "Good evening, ladies."

"This is my assistant, Major McMurdoe," he says, pointing to a gentleman immediately to my left in civilian clothes who nods my way.

"Sir," I say while nodding to him in response.

"Gordon Bellforte, a trusted man of..." he pauses rather deliberately it would seem, "... Many talents and the closest person I have available who approximates a Xi'An expert."

Sitting just beyond the Major, Mr. Bellforte nods my way while seeming to study me.

"These are resident..." he pauses while indicating the pair on my right, then continues in the same tone, "Doctors, Dr. Millesius and Dr. Lee."

I smile pleasantly while asking, "Shrinks?"

Millesius a slightly overweight man, frowns a hint, but then his face returns to neutral.

Doctor Lee, a petite woman, simply smiles and answers, "If that is how you see us, then perhaps you would be so kind as to explain the negatives you feel about our profession."

"Check your notes from Dr. Wong."

"I've already reviewed your time with her."

"Then perhaps you would..."

Mr. Po chooses to interrupt here, "I believe dinner will get cold if we make this about differences in opinion about the psychiatric profession. Let us reserve any such discussion until later."

Dr. Lee's eyes never leave mine. She is an opponent, and that's no lie.

A pair of servants bring in plates of fish and one of prime rib... with a bottle of Solar Flare; I'm guessing that is mine, though in fact the hot sauce is placed equidistant between myself and the Major.

Yup, the prime rib appears to be mine, while a very large salmon-pink fish steak goes to every other plate. The fine fragrance wafts upwards to fill my nose. I'm offered a wine and accept the glass as poured... a fruity pinkish liquid with just a few bubbles.

Looking up, I realize that the rest have already begun tearing into their meals. Well, perhaps tearing is only appropriate for Mr. Po, the Major, Mr. Bellforte, and Dr. Lee. Oh, and Xin seems to be devouring hers rather swiftly as well. The Major appears to have indeed added some of the hot sauce and has that grin only we initiates get.

I spice up mine and dig in. As my ears begin to burn and my lips go numb, the Major looks my way and smiles. We both understand the hot and are undeterred by it; it's a moment of shared appreciation.


	11. Chapter 10 – The Grill Gets Hot

"That was excellent, Mr. Po," I comment, the last mouthful now swallowed. "My compliments to your chef."

"Thank you, Mr. Ryan. I shall pass your kind words on to our people." He looks briefly around the table as others continue their meals. I guess one could say I inhaled mine much more quickly than anyone else at the table.

I think I catch surreptitious nods from each person our host looks at, then he looks my way and with a relaxed smile asks, "Mr. Ryan, since you have finished already, perhaps you would like to resume the story you began with Doctor Wong. You were describing a meeting with Admiral Emmin and the Seer Dnong."

Part of me wonders about his wife and daughter being here and my eyes stray to each in turn.

Po must be reading my mind, "Please do not let the presence of my family bother you, Mr. Ryan. My wife is my best lie detector and my daughter is already cleared to codeword level, you might think of that as ultra-secret. Her degree in Xeno Affairs is actually quite appropriate to your story."

"I see. So, you want me to just talk."

"Yes, sir. Exactly as you did with Doctor Wong."

"Okay..."

…..

I've just finished describing the vocal battle between the Admiral and Dnong when Xin interrupts to comment, "I've never heard of a 'takshak'."

"They told me it is ancient but also rare. Oddly enough, Dnong Ksack has been involved in two of them around me... perhaps even because of me."

"What was the other one?" she asks almost breathlessly.

"No," Mr. Bellforte says, "I submit that we need to hear everything from each event and not let his mind track ahead. I would rather not miss a detail."

Beside me, the Major nods and then looks back at me.

"Mr. Ryan," Mr. Po says, "I would prefer that you continue with your story for now. This incident is only a month or so ago, is it not?"

I think back. Yeah, since then, I got sick, had the second attempt on my life, got rescued/kidnapped, did the whole Outer Ring thing, played passenger/prisoner along the Xi'An frontier, flew an M50 back, and been tortured.

"Yup," I answer, "That was just about a month ago."

"So you are no doubt close to finished," he concludes.

They all stare at me as I begin to laugh.

In moments it has become wave after wave of guffaws interspersed with giggles. Perhaps it is infectious, Xin suddenly starts giggling herself.

While nearly everyone at the table is amused, it is obvious that neither Dr. Lee nor my host are at all pleased with the circumstances.

Mr. Po finally decides he needs to regain control. He rises and all eyes turn to him. "You will forgive me, Mr. Ryan, but I must insist that you treat this process with a little more respect and decorum."

I wipe tears from my eyes and try to stop laughing. Okay, I can't manage a straight face, but I at least am not even chuckling as I answer him, "My apologies, Mr. Po. Your comment struck me as funny and perhaps the stress of the last few days got the better of me. What you don't seem to know yet is there is more to tell still than I've told so far. While it has been just a month, it has been packed with more insanity than most years ever approach."

"Then continue, I pray thee."

Xin chuckles, probably at his overly archaic formal request. The humor fades, however, as he glares at her.

"So, where was I?"

"Admiral Emmin was explaining the takshak."

"Ah, yeah. Well..."

…..

Mai's head sinks to her chest and Mr. Po raises a hand to stop me in my narrative just after I have received the M50 from Ksan Ko'Kree.

"Please forgive me, Mr. Ryan, but I fear we will have to continue tomorrow. My wife has been sick lately and today has been long and tiring for her." She rouses at his touch and he gestures towards what must be their private quarters. As she rises to leave, he speaks again to me, "I would prefer it if you slept on the island tonight. I trust the quarters are acceptable."

"Would I get shot down if I tried to leave?"

He looks directly at me and I realize everyone else is doing the same also. Even Mai has frozen in place and is looking my way.

"No, Mr. Ryan. If you are able to leave the ground, we will not shoot you down."

'If you are able'... those don't sound much like words attached to freedom of movement. "I'm your prisoner?"

"Guest, Mr. Ryan. You are a guest."

"Oh?" I retort.

With a calm tone of control, he says, "Prisoners are not treated so well."

Touche. "I see."

"Sleep well, Mr. Ryan." With this, Mr. Po joins his wife in retiring.

Major McMurdoe looks my way and suggests, "Tomorrow will probably be long and tiring. You will wish you had slept tonight if you don't."

…..

The night air is warm and comfortable and the surf makes melody with the shore. Like a dance, it surges forward, then retreats... endlessly singing its hushing lullaby under the stars.

I walk out the back porch door and discover a hammock tied between two sturdy palms. Overhead, the branches rustle a lazy harmony for the wave song as a billion stars reach between their dancing fingers to touch my face.

I couldn't ask for anything better tonight. I stretch out on the knotted cotton cords and soak in the symphony of the night.

…..

Morning has arrived and sunlight tickles my eyelids enough that sleep flees. My mobi isn't working, so I've no idea what time it is. On the other hand, I suspect they will come get me when they decide I'm due... why should I rush things?

Birds of sea and land all cavort within earshot. "This is mine!" announce some, while smaller voices call, "FEED ME!" Behind them all, the tide is out and the surf a distant relative of what I remember from last night.

I do feel every place I took blows or other injury yesterday, but through the relaxation induced quiet within I notice them more with my mind than my senses. I guess it could be a lot worse, the knot on my head where muscle man clobbered me could still be pretty bad I bet.

My shirt is wet with dew, and I sit upright to pull it off. Maybe I should dry it, or maybe I should get a fresh one. I'm not sure my appearance matters to these folks. Heck, I'm not really sure I matter to them either.

Footsteps sound from the sand behind me. "Breakfast is served, sir," a middle aged person announces. "Master Po requests your attendance."

"I'll be right there."

"Thank you, sir. I shall let him know."

Sun tickles bubbles at the waters edge, transforming them into diamonds for a moment and then allowing their nature to return. If I'm to die today, at least it has been a wonderful last night... a fitting end, perhaps.

If instead, I'm to continue, then perhaps I can draw on this again when I'm trapped in another grilling.

…..

Were it not for the pleasure of my night on the beach, I might think I had only just stepped away from the table. The same group encircles the setting in mostly the same places, though Xin and Dr. Lee have traded places so that the younger Po sits at my immediate right.

The breakfast is fresh fruit and grilled fish. Pineapple is hacked clean and served in slices. Fresh-made orange, clisnas, and pineapple juices sit chilled in sweating glass pitchers, and more fish sizzles on a hibachi-like contraption.

The cook looks my way and asks, "Would you like scorpion pepper extract on your tapana fillets, Sir?"

"Yes, please."

"Thank you, sir." Addressing the gentleman to my left, he continues, "Major? Scorpion for you also, correct?"

"Of course, Mr. Patella."

"Thank you, sir."

I can see now that there is something of a retractable hood near at hand; Mr. Patella pulls it over the sizzling fish before painting the tender flesh with something from a smallish jar. The ventilation no doubt protects the more sensitive members seated about, a courtesy many might miss.

I look down the table at my host. "I would like to thank you for the great night's sleep, Mr. Po. I haven't slept in a hammock under the stars like that, it was wonderful."

Watching me with an evaluating look, he still gracefully replies, "I am glad our hospitality was to your liking. Likewise, I'm also pleased that you chose not to try to depart."

"Hey, it isn't every night I get to play layabout on a tropical island. The only thing I was missing was company," here I wink at the way too young Miss Po. The look I get from her isn't the rolling eyes or even the disgust I might have expected... just a steady gaze without recognizable emotion. Okay, maybe there's a hint of smile at the corners of her mouth, but then again, I have a pretty good imagination.

…..

The fish was indeed excellent... and very very hot; my lips are numb and my ears have that burn going. More satisfying, the spice euphoria is starting to kick in and yesterday's bruises seem even less interested in screaming for my attention. I like this feeling.

The plates are being cleaned away and Mr. Po speaks again, "Mr. Ryan, are you prepared to resume your story? I believe a Xi'An agent had just given you what I believe is your current craft."

A sigh escapes me. "Yeah, I guess that's where we stopped..."

…..

"And then I got the call from your approach with landing instructions." I've been talking for another hour or so and it is good to finally be done. "You know the rest of the story. So, is there anything else, or am I free to get my registration if Kree'Gna still needs me?"

There are looks back and forth, but Mr. Po seems intent on looking my way.

Unexpectedly, Mr. Bellforte says to no one in particular, "No tradecraft. He's useless to me."

The shrinks and Po look at the man and the Major asks, "You don't think he could learn?"

"Nope. Too willing to honestly say everything. It's no wonder the Xi'An are intrigued by him, he is a double edged sword without the guile to chose which way to cut."

"Aren't you curious just who this 'Mark' might be?" Mai asks.

"Must be some corporate entity. I checked last night and we have nothing on them."

Xin speaks up, "No, they are real. I ran against acronyms last night, there is a small unit of the Imperial Archive that has the acronym M.A.R.C., Miscellaneous Archive Research Committee. When I tried to access further data, my connection to the database failed and the search came back empty on the second pass. Codeword protocols failed. I checked with our research section and got nothing, but when I checked with some of my trusted free contacts on-world I got two comments about something called 'Flunkies' and one about a 'Reporter'... just exactly what our Mr. Ryan has described. There is also a line item in last years Imperial Archive budget for MARC, though it seemed to be a very small amount to run a covert operation of any scale."

The Major seems interested, suddenly. "Xin, you do know that our own line item is very small. Our actual funding is an arcane trail of shifted credits that even the Director would have a hard time explaining."

"So they wouldn't be necessarily limited by the stated portion of the Imperial budget?" she asks with what seems genuine curiosity.

"I'm more inclined to think what you uncovered is indicative of a need for more research into the matter," he replies.

I have the feeling that they are deliberately talking around me. I'm not sure why, but it seems like a conscious decision.

"I still say he is useless to me," Mr. Bellforte states. "Presuming that what he says is true, the Xi'An have obviously manipulated what he has been aware of to give us a very distorted view of what is happening and MARC seems to have dumped him. I see no reason to believe that it would change if we invested time and resources training him... even if I could cure him of talking about anything and everything. He may have met with members of the Outer Ring, but I doubt he will be useful at probing it and MARC seems interested in staying aloof."

Mr. Po looks briefly my way and then at his wife. She nods back and then turns to address me, "Mr. Ryan, do you think Gloria is what she said she was?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She continues, "Can you prove anything you have stated yet about her or her organization?"

I think for a moment, "Your man George at the door last night proved it."

"Oh?" she asks, glancing back at her husband.

"What do you mean, Mr. Ryan?" the latter asks.

"The suit your man thought was bugged. Gloria or one of her people did that. The Xi'An suspected that and had me get a new one before I went to the embassy that first time."

"Do you mind if I have someone examine it?"

"I'm surprised that you haven't taken it and done so already."

"As I said, you are a guest."

"Then, by all means, please feel free to do so. I do ask that if you need to destroy it you provide me the credits to replace it."

"A polite request. Let's see if we need to do that, our nondestructive testing is actually quite good."

This comment prompts a snicker from Xin, followed by a knowing look my way.

Dr. Millesius quietly asks something I can't quite catch before looking my way as if expecting an answer.

Those at the other end of the table and Dr. Lee all look at me.

Guessing the situation I say, "If you asked me something, sir, I couldn't quite hear you."

The shrink clears his throat and I guess repeats himself, "Have you worked with Jenk Gallen for very long?"

I've heard that name before. "I know I've heard that name somewh... oh yeah, the Xi'An asked about whomever as one of a long string of names. From the way Dnong asked I guess the name must have been important, but if I've worked with him or her, I didn't know the name at the time."

"Why didn't you mention that before?" he continues.

"Because it didn't come to mind at the time. Dnong read several dozen names and only in hindsight does it seem that he wanted me to think about that one carefully. Why?"

"I am asking the questions, Shawn."

"False familiarity, Doctor. It won't serve you well."

Dr. Lee finally speaks, "Your hostility towards Dr. Millesius seems inappropriate, Shawn."

"If you want me to answer you about anything," I snap back, "You will show a little respect. I've seen you types play games with people's heads for more years than you've been alive, madam. I'm disinclined to play along."

"You like to lie, don't you, Shawn?"

"What? Bite me, you..." I almost say more choice words, but instead look Mr. Po's direction and continue, "You are the host, but your guests seem to wish to provoke a hostile response. Do you mind if I take a walk rather than slap this shrink back into her place?"

Xin laughs, as do both the Major and Mr. Bellforte, and Mr. Po smiles. Dr, Lee, however is fuming with no calmness to her appearance at all.

"You are a character, Mr. Ryan," the Major states and all but the two Doctors nod in agreement.

I'm about to offer a silly reply to the Major when something chimes or rings at the other end of the table. Mr. Po glances down at a small glas and is suddenly very focused on whatever is displayed there. Everyone else is looking very somber and... now there are two more ringers, or whatever you call them, going off and both Mai and Mr. Bellforte are pulling up their own glas... add the Major now. The intensity on their faces says something is serious somewhere; the two doctors exchange glances, rise, and quietly excuse themselves.

Xin has her hand hovering over her glas interface, but no chime has reached it. She looks my way, then back towards her father, "Dad, Mr. Ryan?"

He glances up at her, then steadies his eyes on her face. I think I see her mouth a few words and he nods.

Xin puts her hand on mine and says, "They will be busy. Come with me."

She rises and I do likewise, following her towards the door.

Just before I reach George and the doorway, I hear Mr. Bellforte comment, "I'll need Wrangler and the number two shadow team. Wheels up in thirty."

Mr. Po answers, "Approved. Make it clean, we..."

The door closes and I don't hear anything more.

"Let's go for a long walk on the beach, Mr. Ryan."

"I take it they are going to be busy."

"For at least a while. Father will page me when he is free again."

"Is it likely that I won't get back home today?"

She looks at me with something on her mind, but I've got no clue what. "Perhaps. We will have to wait and see."

"Joy," I opine, my tone denying the word its proper meaning.

"Yup!" She bubbles like a teenager. "We might as well enjoy it. How about some snorkeling?"

I'm about to object on several different counts, but she continues, "Go get your swim suit and I'll meet you at the back door of your cabin."

"I don't have..."

"I'll bring one over for you, along with a mask and fins."

"Well..."

"I won't take 'no' for an answer, Mr. Ryan."

Steamrolled. Okay, maybe those big dark eyes have something to do with it. Or maybe the way she tosses her hair. Or... um... the rest of her. She turns without another word spoken and I'm trying to remember what I'm supposed to be doing. The way she walks in the morning light... wow.

…..

"Mr. Ryan?" Xin asks, having walked into the cabin without a knock. At least I still have pants on...

She is wearing a silk-like bikini of blue fabric with large white flowers printed on it; the material marginally covers her most feminine areas and leaves nothing else to the imagination. "Here, these should fit you nicely," she says, tossing me a pair of red diving shorts.

I pick them up and say, "Well, you'll have to excuse me..."

"Look, a couple of ground rules," she states with a very serious look on her face.

I make eye contact and reply, "Okay."

"I'm a full OES Associate with more training than you've have ever had. If you attempt anything without my express permission, I can and will make you regret it."

I let my eyes go wide and ask, "You mean like trying to get my craft out of here?"

Her expression softens a bit, "No, like trying to touch without invitation to do so."

I smile and chuckle, "Look, I can guess you are much too young and with your dad here, the last thing I..."

"Stop." She commands in a low voice. "I am thirty-one and not too young for anything I want. My father knows what I like to do sometimes. I decide if I'm interested and if I am, he does not object."

"Hey, I'm not arguing. Is the occasional look a problem?"

"No, not a problem. More a problem if you don't look," with this she turns for the back door and I realize that her hair has been in a bun the other two times I've seen her... now it tumbles almost the entire way down her back to the very top line of her... um... wow... bikini bottoms.

This is deliberate, my mind tells me. What she is doing is deliberate and I'm not sure why... or am I? Dora flashes into my head but Dora never... wow... I can see Xin walking down to the dark sand, waves crashing onto the strand in time with the pounding of my heart.

The swim trunks attempt to keep me in check and I head out to join the beautiful and likely deadly flower who waits.

…..

We are treading water at the Island end of a long lagoon of warm crystal water. The bottom in out of reach, even with our fins moving back and forth, but I could almost swear it is just below them.

"Are you ready to see wonders?" she asks breathlessly from beneath her mask.

"Sure, lead on."

She grins and dives.

I'm not sure what shape I'm in, but I'm not going to miss this. I put my head down and my fins push me into position following her. Sunlight filters through the water with abandon, and I realize that the bottom is a longer way down than I had guessed. The fins add speed and in moments I'm catching up with her. The she turns and I can see her smile. At about the same moment, I'm aware that her wet bathing suit is... rather... revealing.

Her eyes are... I can see that she is evaluating me. I need to not get to fixated on what I can't have anyway. She is probably teasing with some ulterior motive and I need to act a bit less like some oversexed animal. She's half my age... well... not quite, but like that's going to matter.

She turns and the rest of her suit might as well have disappeared as well. With her hair floating in the current and her... curves... wow.

Stop. I need a reality check, and it is no further away than looking down at my less than Adonis physique. Okay, I'm not flabby, but I'm old and rather run down looking. Yeah, that's what I needed, my libido has suffered the humiliation of seeing myself and parts of me decide that they'll go back to sleep. Maybe I can just enjoy the companionship, it wouldn't hurt me and I might glean some of what they still have planned.

As she swims back to the surface for a breath, I follow, trying for all the world to look at the things below us and not the undulations a scant three meters away.

…..

We are laying on a warm black sand beach, caressed by the sea breeze and gently baked by the sun.

"May I call you Shawn?" Xin queries.

I don't have to move to answer, "Sure, whatever you like."

"Do you mind if I mix business with pleasure?" Xin asks with a voice that reminds me most of a purr.

I move my head to where I can look at her and respond, "Depends on what you have in mind and whether what we are doing already is business or pleasure."

"I consider it to be both."

"Then I guess I'm okay with whatever as long as it doesn't involve pain."

She laughs like an innocent child, "No pain. Just questions."

"Sure, fire away," I say while allowing my forehead to rest on my arms.

"What does Gloria look like?"

"Tallish, bald, she's a deep alto, almost a tenor. If it weren't for her name, her face and... um... her figure, I'm not sure I would have known her sex."

"So you don't actually know if the person is indeed a she?"

"Well, I can't imagine how could I know for 100 percent sure, but I'm pretty certain."

"Sex."

"Oh, yeah. I guess that would have confirmed it."

"What about her figure do you think meant she must have been a woman?"

"Um... honestly?"

"Yes. If you actually have something other than breast size."

I sigh and answer, "The gap between her legs at her loins. Men aren't like that, and not all women are. But it is almost 100 percent certain to be a woman like that. Sorry, you wanted me to be honest."

"Oh." Xin seems to think for a minute, then demurely asks, "Do I have one?"

Again, I sigh. I need a deep breath, then I answer, "Yes. Very much so."

"Do you find that attractive?"

I lift my head and look at her. Those deep dark eyes could make a man crazy, especially perched so perfectly above that brilliant white smile. What could she want from me that would make her tease so? I'm glad I'm laying on my stomach right now or my anatomy would be embarrassing me no end.

"Yes, Ma'am. Very."

"But you didn't find Gloria attractive or at least not attractive enough to make a play for her when she has all but offered."

"Nope. Not into bald women or bossy women."

"Do you like long hair?"

"You mean like yours?"

She nods.

"Yeah, I've had a thing for long haired women since I was a teen and my first experience..." hmmm, no, that isn't important, is it? "Sorry, tmi, I'm sure."

"No, it's good to know. You're being pretty honest."

"I'm not a good liar and besides, I feel bad about it whenever I've caught myself."

"Yeah, I bet Gloria's people must have pulled their collective hair out when they realized you really were so willing to talk about anything."

That image of makes me laugh: Gloria's bosses having hair rending experiences over my reports of talking with the Xi'An.

"Probably," is my comment.

"I think Gordon was right about you."

I can't remember which one that is. "The Major?"

"No, Commander Bellforte."

I try to remember what he said, but she saves me the trouble, "He said you had no tradecraft. Too willing to say what you think or know when asked."

"Is that bad?"

"No. You would not make a good Associate, but that gives me more time to probe your mind."

"How?"

She smiles, "I'm doing it right now."

"Oh. Go ahead, then."

"Put your head back down, I'm going to ask some more while I put some more solar screen on your back."

I comply. A cool splurp of solar screen splashes on the middle of my back.

"If you could do anything, what would it be?" Her deceptively strong hands are starting to spread the slick liquid across my back muscles and I'm having a hard time focusing on answering her.

"Be independently wealthy and able to fly wherever I want whenever I want."

"And if you could, what would you do for that?"

"Oh, one of those kind of questions. Nah, if I wanted to bend the rules to get there, I would have done it a long time ago. If I can't get it honestly, I don't want it."

"Really?"

"Hard to live with myself when I make bad mistakes, and what I think you were asking would be worse than bad."

"So is it fair to presume you didn't sell out to the Xi'An to get your ships?"

"Yeah, that's fair. I think they tried to recruit me and Gloria and Brother Patrick both seemed to think the M50 means they weren't done trying... though I guess if I'm not Kree'Gna's wing I may not be so interesting to them anymore. I don't mind, the Partisan is fast, but it is too small to live in. If I'm not runnin' the contract, it would just sit most of the time and I really don't have a hangar big enough for the three of them."

"Would you consider selling it?"

"Probably just return it to their embassy. I'd feel weird selling it like that."

"Even to me?"

I chuckle, "Yeah, especially to you."

Her breath tickles my ear... she must be leaning close as she whispers, "I could make it worth your while." As she is saying this, her hands have left my back and are now rubbing the block onto my thighs... her fingers going places I would not have expected...

"Hmmmm..."

"Feel good?"

"Um... wow... I think you wer... oh my..." I take a deep breath and try to think about anything but where her hands are now. "I hope you aren't trying to seduce me for whatever nefarious purposes you government types could come up with."

"No nefarious purposes. Like I said, I like to mix business with pleasure."

"You think I would bring you pleasure?"

"I don't know... yet. Experience often brings out gentleness from a man; that willingness to please even more than seeking his own pleasure."

"Wow..."

"So, will you sell me your M50?"

Ah... my cynicism kicks in suddenly, "I guess I'm not quite experienced enough to really want to please you."

Her hands gently move away from me and she appraises, "You are a tough nut to crack."

"Just loyal. Try to be fair, too. Besides, I know what I look like, so I'm not exactly going to believe that such a beautiful woman would want me for any other reason than use."

She laughs, "Honesty again. I like that. I haven't decided, but I do think you might be surprising."

"I'm sure I'm no better than average."

She smiles and rests her right hand on my thigh. "No, that was above average, my dear Mr. Ryan."

I'm trying for all the world to think up an appropriate response to Xin's 'above average' assessment when her mobi chimes. I look up and see her concentrate on something for a moment, then close it and start to stand. "Well, father has taken care of the business that came up. We are invited back to have lunch."

"Okay," I mumble as I too stand.

"You seem to have been having a good time," she opines after a sideways glance my way.

I should guess so. I turn and splash quickly into the water, just far enough that it serves the purpose of a cold shower. Well, that and it also rinses off a lot of the sand that seems to have stuck to my pasty white skin. Damn, I look so pathetic, especially next to the glowing tan Xin is displaying. She proceeds to wrap a towel about herself and leads me back towards the compound.

…..

Lunch has been another superb fish grill, this time with a much reduced group. The two doctors must have better things to do, and Mr. Bellforte is gone wherever with whomever.

Mr. Po has chosen a round table this time, one that has the five of us all together in a more comfortable arrangement. The Major is to my immediate left again, Mai is to his left and almost across from me, Mr. Po is to her left again and also almost directly across from me, and finally Xin is to his left which is my right. Xin has added a breezy cotton thing that drapes across her and covers the bikini completely. If it matters, I added a linen shirt to the swim trunks.

Mai looks my way and says calmly, "I see Xin has taken you for a swim. Are you quite relaxed now, Mr. Ryan?"

"Yes, Ma'am. It was kind of a new experience for me. I've swum in lakes and rivers, but never in sea water. Pretty awesome all the things you can see."

Out of the corner of my eye I see Xin almost imperceptibly move her head back and forth signaling 'no' to someone. Neither Mr. nor Ms. Po seem to have taken their eyes off of me, but I'm certain that whatever the message was, it has been delivered.

Mr. Po breaks the silence, "We would like you to tell us if we have anything to fear from your interaction with the Xi'An?"

"I've got no clue. Everybody seems to want me to be a spy and I still have no clue about any of it. MARC and the Seers say they are content with me just telling them everything. Whoever has tried to kill me obviously has other ideas... that wasn't one of your's, was it?"

The Major speaks up, "No, but I do have some possible info I can trade you."

"Trade?"

"We have examined the bugs in your flight-suit. They are different and perhaps actually better than what we have. I would like to trade my information for that flight-suit. We would provide you with a basic one when you leave."

"Well, since I figure you will take what you want anyway..."

"We would rather be civilized," Mr. Po interrupts calmly. "It is much easier to maintain pleasant relations if we haven't gone about making life too miserable... without cause."

"Well, then by all means, the trade sounds good. Who is the miscreant?"

"We know there are at least two members of the Senate involved. We will deal with them. The middle man is Hornek Tish, a Tev living on Gen. I think his assassin is a man from the Guild known as Vixen."

"Odd call for a man, isn't it?"

"We think his current or previous ship carried the name first. Besides, as you just observed, most folks would think of a woman with such a callsign." I shrug and he continues, "We also believe that Tish is running several Xi'An penetration ops, though we aren't sure what they are for... yet."

"Can you send that to my mobi?"

"Already done. When you leave your glas will work again, and it will be waiting for you."

"Jix."

"Father, I would suggest that we release Mr. Ryan tomorrow morning. The documents should be ready by then."

I think there is a subtle hint of surprise on Mr. Po's face and at least a shadow of displeasure on Mai's, but the Major nods and Mr. Po states, "Yes, I believe that one more night should do about perfectly. We will be able to provide you with your proper registration materials in the morning, Mr. Ryan. In the mean time, please continue to enjoy our hospitality. Dinner will be a sundown. I think a small luau is in order considering the time you've given us."

"Um... okay?"

The four of them laugh.

…..

The afternoon has flown and so has the meal. I'm comfortably full and grant that the wine has made a favorable impression. There isn't much better than to lay on a mat on the sand with a warm sea breeze and a full stomach. The stars have come out and begun their nightly cartwheel across the sky. There are even a few musicians playing somewhere nearby.

Out of nowhere, Xin is suddenly kneeling nearby. She leans in close and whispers, "Come with me, Shawn. I have something for you."

"Oh? Um, okay." I rise and follow her through the near darkness along the strand. Oh, I'm near my hut, I wonder what she has here? I stand at my back door, peering inside.

"Shawn," she purrs, "I've decided we should enjoy the night anyway. Are you interested?"

"In what?"

She walks back toward me out of the pitch dark and the faint light from the beach shows what the water-soaked bikini only hinted at. Her face comes close and I feel her naked curves against my chest. Her hands pull my face to hers and she whispers, "What do you think, Mr. Ryan?"


	12. Chapter 11 – On Nature and Reality

It can be difficult to wake with someone on your mind, playing with the edges of your dreams. It is more disorienting when you expect that someone to be laying beside you but the bed is otherwise empty. Did that really happen here, last night?

The second pillow has her scent still on it and a whole range of my muscles are telling me it had been a long time since they were used so. Yes, I think it did happen. Right here. I was involved.

She isn't here. Recriminations start... was I all that bad? Did I say or do something stupid? Well, okay, there are levels of stupid; I mean other than bed a woman half my age. A smoking hot woman. A sober woman who already knew what I look like under most of my clothes and didn't let that stop her.

What did it mean to her? I'm not sure what it means to me, but I'd like to find out... did it mean something special to her, too? What about a kid? What chance is there that I'm going to be a da?

Something is wrong with me. I let a spook seduce me. A perfect ten physically, but a spy nevertheless. I didn't think ahead, didn't even ask myself if I want a relationship with someone like that. What were her motives?

Could I trust her? The honest answer is no. The passion was great, but I bet it is all on storage somewhere for them to try to blackmail me with. Thing is, I don't have anyone I'm concerned about finding out, so that isn't likely to work. But she must have known that already, so what was the point?

Did she actually want me? Was it me the person or just the attention of a warm friendly male?

The room speaker interrupts my self-recriminations, "Mr. Ryan, breakfast is served, sir. Second building on the left as you exit your front door."

"Thanks," I say, not knowing if anyone hears me. Different meeting place today, I wonder what that portents.

My linen shirt is tossed casually on the carpet, my jeans are half covered by the bedsheet, and I'm not at all sure where my underwear went. I grab what I need from my bag and dress about the same as I've been the last few days. I note that the red swim trunks are nowhere to be found.

…..

There isn't a guard at the door here and I'm left saying, "Hello?" to the hallway.

"Back here!" Xin calls.

Well, at least that is a positive.

She is sitting at a smallish table, all alone.

"What, no interrogation squad?"

"No, silly, just a relaxed breakfast before you go."

"Ah." Well, I'm supposed to leave gracefully. "About last night..."

"Yeah, I enjoyed it. Maybe I'll drop in on you some time when you're on-world."

Sitting down, I ask, "So it was okay?"

She looks my way and says, "Yeah, I had a good time. You're okay; maybe out of shape for the main event, but you more than made up for it before we got there."

Wow, that's a rather deflating review. "So I'm not exactly the man you wanted."

"Wanted? You were exactly who I wanted last night. Look, I'm a rather free woman. I wasn't looking for you to be more than an experience to be enjoyed and I trust you found enjoyment with me, too."

I smile at the memory, but another thought comes quickly, "Any risk of a..."

"Baby? No, I'm not able to have kids."

"Oh, I'm..."

"Sorry? Don't be. My mother and father thought having me while staying in the OES made sense; it was murder and I wouldn't do that to a kid. As it turns out, I can enjoy my body and not worry."

"I see."

"I wonder if you do," she says with an evaluating expression. "Look, if you see Gloria again, tell her I said she's missing out. The girl should grow some hair and take a few sweetness lessons and get on your good side. You really aren't that bad even for a man ten or fifteen years younger than you, much less someone your age." She chuckles and adds, "Heck, there are even a few things the other guys around here could take pointers from you on."

I'm not sure if I've been insulted or complimented, and it's even possible that I've just received both. As I chew on an orange slice, it occurs to me that if she stays here most of the time that a lot of the men around have probably sampled the same pleasures.

"These are yours," Xin says, handing me a packet and several data chips. "They will work with your mobi once you are twenty-five klicks out." I note that my hand seems on fire where our fingers touch... but from her expression she has no such reaction.

"Klicks?"

"Sorry, kilometers. You mobi will start working once you pass about that point."

Holding the packet I ask, "So these are..."

"Your registration materials. You are now a registered foreign agent under Xeno Affairs primary protocol. You pay your taxes and do nothing to put the UEE at risk and the suits at XA won't both you."

The piece of egg I'm trying to get onto my toast is giving me a hard time. That or I'm really having to work not to ask for another turn with her.

Looking me in the eye... or is that the heart... she continues, "You craft is ready to depart, but if you ever decide to sell it, let me know. I really like how the Xi'An tech has been blended with the rest of the hull. You'll let me know, won't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I finally exhale and see her nod just a hint. This is getting uncomfortable for me, the breakfast isn't important enough to continue to deal with it here.

Rising, I smile and announce, "I need to go ahead and get ready, then. Thanks for your hospitality and... um... for last night. I thought it was wonderful."

She smiles and nods, "Have a safe trip, Mr. Ryan. Oh, there should be a flight suit in your room when you get back to it."

"Thanks," I reply softly. The doorway beckons and though I long to hear it, no call to come back catches me as I walk out into the morning light.

…..

I've gotta admit I feel rather used. I mean it was a great experience and all that... heck, for a while I was feeling like I was a decade or two younger. The 'experience to be enjoyed' and her comments about the other men here leave me wondering if this is how a hopeful young woman feels after she's been shown the door after what he only meant as a one night stand.

The M50 is all in one piece, the crew is keeping their distance, and I'm about done with the exterior preflight. Extending the ladder, I take a moment to look around one last time. I guess I secretly hoped she would come out to see me off, but that appears not to be in the works. The cockpit smells like cockpits do: a faint body odor mixed with hints of hydraulic fluid, electrical arcing, and warm plastics. The canopy slides closed and I start the launch checklist.

If it were a 3xx, I could probably do this in my sleep, but there are still things here I'm not that familiar with, especially the checks on the Xi'An tech. Honestly, I'm not sure what all the things are, but for now... hmmm... I wonder. That could be a way to get this stupid bird off my hands for a while and move back into my 350r. Mental note to myself: call Kree'Gna once I have communications and see if the Xi'An want to sweep this thing for stuff the OES might have added.

It has taken maybe ten minutes, but now everything is green and good to go.

On my main comm channel I announce, "Control... whatever... this is Ryan in the M50. I am ready to launch."

Without hesitation there is an answer, "Shawn Ryan, we have you clear to depart on any vector you prefer. You are advised to keep all sensors and scanning systems powered down until you are beyond twenty five kilometers from your current location. Early startup of those systems will draw anti-air fire. Is that understood?"

"Okay, control, I'll do as ordered."

I lift and follow the ground crew's waving instructions, exiting the hangar at barely more than a hover. Once well clear of the doors, I bump the throttle up a notch and feel a steady acceleration. Below, the island is already passing astern; azure sea plays over the reefs, swiftly replaced by the vibrant lapis of deeper waters.

I'm at 1000kmh in less than a minute and clear of the twenty-five kilometer zone in barely another.

My mobi chirps as it begins to reboot and the ship's communications suite also boots.

"Six messages waiting," my comm glas shows.

"Play messages in fifo order."

"Shawn, Camilla here. Are you coming to dinner again tonight?" Time stamp for day before yesterday.

"Kree'Gna is calling Shawn Ryan." Same date, corresponds with the day of torture and my first evening on the island.

"Shawn, This is Camilla, are you okay? I want you to come to dinner tonight, and that's an order. Well, as close to one as I can give. I have some dragon grade peppers..." her voice has that teasing tone that makes it obvious she knows me way too well. Sent the same day as the first.

Camilla again, "Shawn, I'm getting worried, you didn't call us yesterday. You okay?" Yesterday's message.

"Kree'Gna is calling Shawn Ryan." He never was much for leaving detailed messages, also sent yesterday.

"My, didn't we have fun last night?" Who the heck is that? Sent this morning, sounds like a man, but maybe it was Gloria? Doesn't really sound that much like her, but then again, I don't recall ever hearing her on a comm. No reply id, maybe I'll never find out.

"Camilla?"

"Shawn?" she asks with surprise. Her next words shift to angry very quickly, "Why haven't you called. I've been worried sick."

"Thanks, mom."

She says a few words I rather not repeat and then calms down a bit, "You shouldn't make fun of me being worried. I don't trust those government whoahos as far as I can throw them."

"That's a good position to take. Look, the offer of dinner still on for tonight?"

Her tone takes on a quality I think of as being coy, "Maybe. You explain yourself then?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well, all right, dinner will be at six."

I smile and say, "I'll be there or let you know if I'm delayed again."

"Okay. Oh, Arron wants to know if you are going to need an extra parking space cleared."

"For?"

"Anyone extra that needs one."

"I don't think so."

"Okay. Until then."

"Ciao."

"Shawn Ryan is calling Kree'Gna."

Silence. I'm almost out of the atmosphere, heading for the embassy... but not without permission.

"Shawn Ryan is calling Kree'Gna."

All I hear are the little sounds of the M50's cockpit systems. I switch to the open commercial frequency and hail the embassy itself, "Shawn Ryan to Xi'An Embassy. I am a Xi'An Imperial contractor. I desire contact with Kree'Gna, Ksan Ko'Kree, or any party able to give me permission to land."

"Shawn Ryan, this is Taalk Kray, assistant to Diplomat Athas Mgren. This communication link is not secure. Do you have one of your contract links available?"

"Yes, sir."

"Please use the primary diplomatic encryption listed as option two."

I select it from the options offered on my comm glas and key up, "Shawn Ryan is calling Assistant Taalk Kray."

"Taalk Kray is answering Shawn Ryan. Neither Ksan Ko'Kree nor Kree'Gna are available. How may I assist you?"

"I believe my contract ship has been compromised. I would like to have this M50 that Ksan Ko'Kree presented me swept for bugs or other unauthorized equipment. I would also like to recover my 350R which I believe was towed to the Embassy after my rescue."

"I will speak with the Diplomat and ascertain if we may assist you in this manner."

"Thank you."

I begin to feather the throttles for an approach to the Embassy's dock. Wonder how long until I hear back.

Not too long, appearently; "Taalk Kray is calling Shawn Ryan."

"Yes, sir. Oh, sorry, Shawn Ryan is answering Taalk Kray."

"You may dock your craft in bay three. The Diplomat wishes to speak with you after you disembark."

"Thank you every much, Taalk Kray."

"You are most welcome, Shawn Ryan."

…..

A security detail is waiting as my pads touch down. I shut systems down and clamber down the ladder. A thought intrudes as I see one of the scanning teams... what if this suit the OES gave me is bugged?

"Excuse me," I say to one of the techs, "Can you scan my suit? It might have been tampered with."

Well, it would appear that the tech has no clue what I just said and I don't know enough Xi'An to ask so specific a question.

From behind me a voice asks, "What was your concern, Shawn Ryan?"

"Taalk Kray?"

"Yes, I am he."

"I got this suit from the same folks that I suspect bugged the ship. Can they scan it before I go to meet Diplomat Athas Mgren?"

"Do you have something else to change into?"

"Not here, but I should have a secure suit on my 350, if it is nearby."

"Yes, down the causeway. Please follow me."

Not two hundred meters away, the familiar form of my Origin sits comfortably on its tires. I stride to her, open her up and step inside. Things sure seem to be where I left them, including the box with my 'clean' jumpsuit. I dress appropriately and dismount to follow Assistant Kray to a conference room with Athas Mgren.

Bowing, I offer, "Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren."

She smiles and nods, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Have you been well?"

"I am healthy, Diplomat."

She gestures to Taalk and he backs out the door we had just entered by. "I need to explain the situation, Shawn Ryan. Ksan Ko'Kree and Kree'Gna journey to Rihlah, they will not be back for several days at least."

"Thank you, Athas Mgren. I have brought the ship Ksan Ko'Kree gave me to be inspected for tampering."

"Why do you think it might have been tampered with?"

"I was on an island controlled by the OES while they questioned me."

Her expression chills markedly and she is now warily watching, "Why were you there?"

"Were you aware that on my last run into the system a UEE Navy patrol ordered that I register as a foreign agent?"

"Yes, I have been briefed on that."

"Were you also aware that during the process at our Xeno Affairs office I was first tortured and then sent to an island for further questioning?"

"No, I was not aware of that."

"OES agents did both the torture and the questioning and only released my registration when they were satisfied that I wasn't a threat. Of course, I asked your security team to scan my ship once it landed and have changed out of the flight suit I had there so it could also be scanned."

She nods, "You have acted with honor, Shawn Ryan."

"I try."

"Kree'Gna asks those who can decide if you may remain with him now that the MARC agents are no longer interested. Ksan Ko'Kree keeps his own council on the matter, I am not sure if he will support Kree'Gna's request or oppose it. I would guess you have several days before we have word from either as to the fate of your contract."

"May I ask you a serious question, Athas Mgren?"

"You may ask, but I might choose not to answer, Shawn Ryan."

"Do you know if Ksan Ko'Kree staged the interrogation that led to my 'rescue' and subsequent movement to Rihlah?"

She is very still, I may have gone too far. "Ksan Ko'Kree's actions on such matters would be better discussed with him." Her tone is ice cold.

"Please forgive me, Diplomat, I mean no offense."

"I believe you should retire to you own place. Kree'Gna will contact you when he returns."

"May I offer one bit of information I gleaned while in OES custody?"

Guardedly, she answers, "Perhaps."

"The OES believes that behind the attempts on my life recently are several individuals," I have her complete and undivided attention now, "Including two unnamed members of our Senate, a Tevarin living on Gen named Hornek Tish, and an assassin known as Vixen. There were further hints that Tish may be behind several penetration attempts into Xi'An space, though it was admitted that the OES doesn't yet know for sure what the operations are for."

"You are sure of this information?"

"Only that it is what they told me. I find it hard to trust a spook these days, but that was the first possible lead I've gotten."

"A spook?"

"Sorry, an intelligence agent. A spy."

"Ah, thank you." I would swear there is at least a hint of sympathy as she continues, "I can understand the sentiment you have expressed. Is there anything else you wish to say or ask?"

"No, Ma'am. Am I dismissed?"

"Yes. You are free to take either the M50 or your older 350 when you depart.

"Thank you. I will take the 350, in case I am not longer to be kept under contract."

"I understand. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"Thank you for your time, Diplomat. Athas Mgren, athlē-korr."

…..

The 350R is parked in my hangar, Camilla is busy inside in the kitchen, and my eyes are closed as I listen to the sounds from downslope in the plantation. If only life could be so easy again.

"I figured I would find you here." The voice is a woman's, but so contralto that there is only one woman who could be using it.

Without looking towards her, I say, "Hello, Gloria."

"Hello, Shawn."

"I thought you were going to stay away now."

"I lied."

The words come so easily from her that I have to admit I look her way to make sure she actually spoke them so nonchalantly.

"Was that your message this morning?"

"Of course."

"How much of what happened out there do you know about?"

"Almost everything. Their microphones covering the beach are not very good or that minx knows how to defeat them."

"Minx? Do I detect a hint..."

"Of jealousy?" she interrupts. "Fat chance. If that's what you like, we have a couple Flunkies who will be glad to keep you entertained and cooperative. Lanai, a girl from some Earth island... Molok or something like that... oh, yeah, Molokai... anyway, she makes that Xin witch look like a tired has been and..."

My turn to interrupt, "Let's not go there, okay? So you know everything already?"

"Yup. Want to hear their report on you?"

"Not right now, how..."

"Gloria!" Camilla has apparently come out onto the patio. "Are you staying for dinner again? Shawn, I told you to tell me if you were bringing someone."

"Camilla, I just dropped in, he didn't know to invite me. And yes, I would love to stay for dinner."

So much for my peaceful evening at home.

…..

Dinner is very spicy and I'm enjoying the fact that Gloria is actually sweating trying to eat along with us. Camilla and Arron don't perhaps like food quite as hot as I do, but I'm sure this would be much hotter than the five stars in any of Prime's best Thai eateries... next to this, xi'rrahn is just spiced water. Gloria was not prepared, maybe for the first time since I've known her.

"You know, if you like it really hot," I say looking Gloria in the eye, "I've got some Rat's Blood I could share."

My chiding earns me a dreary look, she wants to be mad but is in too much pain.

"No," she gasps, flushed and obviously uncomfortable.

"Perhaps we could get her some milk," Arron says with what might be compassion or teasing.

Gloria just shakes her head, but she also chooses this moment to push her meal away from herself with more than half the food left.

Camilla rises, takes the plate, and heads to the kitchen. I realize that I miss Brother Patrick's presence to soften Gloria's impact on the room.

Camilla returns with a small bowl of homemade ultra-rich strawberry ice-cream. She sets it before Gloria and says quietly, "This will help. Eat all of it."

The MARC Reporter nods and does as instructed.

…..

Gloria has somewhat recovered and is looking rather appraisingly at the three of us.

"Tell us what the report you mentioned said about our Shawn," Camilla unexpectedly says.

Gloria looks her, glances at me, and then looks back her way. "You listen well."

"You would be surprised," Camilla responds, while taking a confident evaluation of the bald woman.

"They believe he is worth watching, but not a valid asset or candidate. They have bugged his ship, but I suspect the Xi'An will have removed those bugs by the time he gets it back. The psych crew distrust him because they observe that he fails to act according to their models, including several pointed notes about his refusal to submit to intimidation or cooperate with minor behavior modification. One of the Associates observed that he is relatively easy to manipulate with sex and advised a plan of providing a proper 'relationship' if he is deemed important enough to use. The rest of the details are minor."

"You banging someone over there?" Camilla asks me with uncharacteristic crudeness.

My night with Xin comes back to haunt me and I admit, "Yeah, something like that. I was a one-nighter for her."

Camilla looks Gloria's way and the latter nods in confirmation.

…..

The meal has been cleared away and Gloria is sitting quietly, just watching us. Camilla and Arron have talked for the last hour about the plantation. I think they are winding down, bed time will come soon for them.

"Would you like a room, Gloria?" Arron offers.

"No, I'm still on a morning clock right now. I'll leave after I've had a chance to talk with Shawn."

"Ah," Camilla replies. "Let's go, hubby. These two love birds need some alone time."

The two women laugh at this and Arron joins Camilla as she heads off to their rooms.

In the growing quiet, Gloria is watching me.

In the distance, a cat yeowls, fitting my mood perfectly.

"The AcDat on you has indeed been moved from active to accumulate."

"What does that mean?"

"Hmmm, which part?"

"I don't understand anything you just said. Ackdad means nothing to me and moving from 'active' to 'accumulate' means even less."

"AcDat, T. Acquire Data. A type of operation. It is what I do most of my working time. Your data-store has been handed off to a Researcher, someone who keeps track of things while crunching through the information we have and continue to collect. 'Active' in your case means the part of getting the information stream started on you. 'Accumulate' is what will happen now."

"So, where does that leave you?"

"I am actually already set for my next assign. I wanted to see you. Xin's comment in the report means they have something planned if you become interesting."

"And you care about what happens to me, right?" I ask with at least a modicum of sarcasm.

Gloria might actually be hurt by that, her expression is hard to read, but the first flash of reaction was definitely pain. "Yes, I actually trust the OES types less than I trust the Xi'An. They use people and dispose of them casually. MARC wants information for those who need to know... now or in the future. OES wants covert control. They are worse that Special Action within the Advocacy."

"You've dealt with them, I take it."

She smiles, "I was one of them." She sees my loathing expression in response and continues, "MARC has made an honest Reporter out of me. I don't regret leaving the Advocacy."

"Honest Reporter?" I ask, remembering how easily she admitted she had lied earlier.

"Well, I still lie about what I need to, but I try very hard not to resort to violence with innocent people."

"Yet you threatened me the first time you showed up."

She laughs, "Yup, it worked, didn't it?"

I shrug, "Maybe."

"Look, you are still going to be monitored, probably by at least the three of us."

"Three?"

"Xi'An, OES, and MARC. We have the advantage of picking up all the OES data as well, but it isn't real-time, there's a delay in that."

"You actually saw everything from that island?"

She doesn't flinch as she replies, "You lasted less than six minutes."

I'm humiliated and sure my tone matches the sentiment as I respond, "Well, that's a definite yes."

She nods.

"Did you hear about the Tev on Gen?"

"Hornek Tish? Yes. We are trying to backtrack Vixen, but I suspect the Major was correct. Who the Senators are is also a matter of great interest, but again, that is in a Researcher's hands now. Depending on what they find there might be another assign or another branch might conveniently learn of Tish or Vixen's actions."

"Do Researchers work for you?"

"Oh my, no. They work for the Librarian, like we do. They are the real data miners, they see patterns in things that would overload me. Brilliant, every one."

"So, when do I meet him or her?"

"You don't."

"Oh."

"Morgan will either send me to meet with you or assign a Flunkie."

"Like Dora?"

"Or Lanai, now that we know your preferences."

"You say that like you might mean 'weaknesses'."

She inclines her head to one side but says nothing.

"So MARC would try to seduce me as cynically as OES would."

"Yes. If it would work, I'd put on a wig and do it myself. Oh, and if you ever see that witch again, feel free to tell her from me that her faking it was unimpressive."

I realize what Gloria means and my time with Xin becomes even more of an embarrassment.

She continues, "Don't worry, I know I'm not your type."

Imagine my relief.

"I'll check in on you from time to time, but you can let the Xi'An know we are still watching you. That might make them happy to keep you on."

"You are a strange person for being in such a 'secret' agency."

"I tell you what you need to know to keep being yourself, and to keep you being useful to us. OES still has little clue that we are what we are, though it would seem that Xin made some interesting mental leaps... she isn't completely an airhead barbie-doll."

I would swear there is at least a little acrimony in her comments about Xin, but I guess it's more likely due to the remarks Xin made disparaging her than anything like jealousy.

"I need to go," she says, rising.

I stand and offer, "Fly safe."

"You, too." With that she steps out into the night.

…..

It is quiet out, just a distant bird calling into the darkness. I'm laying on my back wondering if anything can or will go wrong before I can fall asleep. Gloria's departure has left me no more settled than I was this morning after being dismissed by Xin. Still, sleep seems inevitable and my eyes are finally slipping closed.

Almost on cue, my mobi chimes with a connection attempt. For a moment or two I lay still, wondering if I should get it and knowing that I can't not.

The moments pass, "Yellow?"

"Hey, TOG! You old rust bucket!"

"Dalton! What hole did you crawl out of?"

"Hole my ass," Dalton Banner laughs. "You must be on Terra itself somewhere for this to connect so quickly."

"Roger that."

"Hey, I heard your name tossed around; care to sit down for a Guinness and some talk?"

"Where do you have in mind?"

"Some place public... maybe JonJohn's?"

"Just off the monorail between Downtown and The Block?"

"That's the one. Get a booth and order two Guinness and their super-porterhouse."

"Um, I already had a good dinner, Dal."

"The steak is for me, mutton head. Anyway, I'll see you before you see me."

This isn't like Dalton. "What's with the cloak and dagger?"

"You'll understand. Can't talk more right now. Later, dude."

"Hasta..." the link has terminated before I can finish.

Well, no rest for the weary. I rise and don a clean but very old flightsuit and of course my dragonskins. Sneaking downstairs isn't a problem and I'm at the ship before I'm otherwise distracted.

Why would Dalton seek me out like this? It must be pretty serious for him to drop down onto Terra. He's been a really good bounty hunter for many years; I've flown his wing on numerous occasion and he usually pays well. Something in his tone bothers me, though; he wasn't looking for me to fly with him, or he would have just asked if I was available. Further, he has never been very fond of crowds, but JonJohn's is about as unlikely to be packed full of with hundreds of people as I am to be Vandie. Whatever could be up?

…..

I slump into the pilot seat, still not quite returned from sleep to waking.

"Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair," Duncan startles me with the challenge.

Fortunately, it's one I've done a myriad times before, "Well, who died and made you boss?"

"You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

"Bite m e, Duncan."

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"Duncan, please clear us for a pad in Terra, as close to the mono as possible."

"There are three pads available in the starport within a thousand meters of a monorail station."

"Stations?"

"Bravo and Gamma has two."

Gamma has the best vectors back out. I'm not sure why I'm thinking this way, but Gamma is also the most crowded, I'm more likely to be lost in the crowd and another 350 isn't likely to attract much attention.

"Which sectors in Gamma?"

"One in Green, that's a business and one in yellow, that is a discount."

Yellow discount would be the most anonymous, but it would be the longer walk from the monorail. What am I sensing? Is there some danger? Probably not, but then again, I've never known Dalton to be so dramatic... it's something he might do if he were being hunted or hunting.

…..

Like may cities serving the empire, Prime is a city that never sleeps. The monorail in goes smoothly enough and I'm quickly entering the unceasing noise that fills JonJohn's. There must be a hundred different conversations all running at the same time. A waiter approaches, dressed in what must be some period costume... though I have no clue what period that would be.

"Welcome to JonJohn's Famous Ribs and Seafood. I'm Nathan and I'll be your waiter tonight. Would you like to start with something from the bar to drink?"

"Well, let's just order what I need all at once, Okay?"

"Sure, what'cha want?"

"I'll take two Guinness and your super-porterhouse."

"And how would you like the porterhouse cooked?"

Ooops, I never asked that of Dalton... "um, medium."

"Would you like the rice..."

I interrupt, "Nothing but the steak and the Guinness."

He shrugs and moves something around on his little glas, "Okay, medium super-porter and two Guinness."

"Yeah, thanks."

He appears to send the order and is off to the next table without another word.

My mobi chimes and I answer, "Yeah?"

"You're hotter than I thought," Dalton Banner states. "You were followed."

"Yeah, I've been getting a lot of that sort of thing lately."

"I know something that might be valuable to you."

I laugh, "Well, while I appreciate the thought, I kinda doubt it is worth much now. I'm being watched by at least four groups, including the OES."

I can hear something deflate in his voice, "Oh." He seems to struggle with a thought, but finally asks, "Hey, is it true you're registered Xeno now?"

I know he means foreign agent with Xeno Affairs. "Yes, it's just an escort contract, but the government says I need to register so I did."

"Slink or Nu?"

"Kree'Gna is Xi'An."

"Kree'Gna. That the Xi'An you used to partner with?"

"The same."

"So, you don't want to meet to purchase some data?"

"Well, if you had shown up a few days ago, I might have been interested... now, I know who to go after."

"Really? Need help?"

"Maybe. It's a Tev on Gen."

The link is silent and my heart starts to pound. Dalton knows something about that.

"You still there?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah." He voice takes on what sounds like concern, "You need to be careful, Hornek isn't someone to trifle with."

How did he know I meant Hornek Tish? Maybe I should make sure he knows, "I've heard that Tish is just some Senator's lackey."

"No, he is a capable fixer. His clients seem to think you're a liability and he has one out on you, my friend."

I know the answer, but ask anyway, "One what?"

"Contract for your head."

"And you're after Vixen, right?"

"No!" He pauses, "I mean no, you shouldn't know that."

His tone says he is lying. What exactly is the nature of this situation? I pull up the mobi and search on contracts from Hornek Tish... nothing found for Vixen. On a lark I check for contracts for getting me, and Dalton's statement about me is quickly confirmed.

"You know that Vixen has the contract on me, don't you?"

I can hear him take a deep breath, "You don't know who he is, do you?"

He just acknowledged that in spite of the implied gender he already knows Vixen is a male. What else does he know? My hand slips down to the old ballistic sidearm in its belly holster, something feels very wrong here.

"Tell Tish from me that we know a lot more about him than he would ever like," I say while standing.

"You know, you're pretty smart for an old fart." I hear him through the mobi, but my ears tell me I can hear him in the room as well... behind me. I head for a blind corner, turn just past it, and stop.

"Thanks," I say quietly. I'm mostly facing the wall, my weapon clear of its holster and the safety is off.

He turns around the corner in a hurry and stops, momentarily startled. The look disappears and I see the blade flash, almost too late. My weapon fires, my wrist screaming in pain from the discharge as the almost deafening roar interrupts everyone in the room. Dalton's eyes widen and then slack. A woman nearby screams, then another. Dalton Banner falls like the proverbial sack of rocks, a growing red stain flowing over his chest from the vicious hole poked into it; an evil looking stiletto still clutched tight in his left hand.

My mobi serves as camera and I send several images of the fallen assassin straight to the Xi'An embassy, knowing full well that both OES and MARC will intercept the unencrypted signal.

An Advocate's Agent is there in moments, his dinner appears to have left a different kind of red stain across his shirt.

"May I have that?" he gestures at the handgun and I calmly surrender my weapon.

"Sorry for the mess, he didn't give me much of an option."

"Let me get a duty officer in. Stay right there, Okay?"

"No problem."


	13. Chapter 12 – Getting Out of Hand

Well, I seem to be seeing the inside of a lot of government offices lately. Now it's the local constable's place, though I note that at least two Advocacy types are mixing with the Prime officials. Nothing like interrupting the public's lives with actual gunfire to make life interesting.

What I really need is to get back to bed, but I suspect that isn't happening soon and these folks are on a very different time zone so they aren't even likely to ask. (sigh)

I wonder why it is always the burly ones who wander my way, I mean I'm not Conan or the Hulk. Nevertheless, a bear of a man who easily could weigh twice what I do walks my way and without introduction asks, "Will you follow me, Citizen Ryan?"

"Sure," I try to chuckle, "I seem to have lost my notes on where to go anyway."

He looks at me for a moment as if to assess if I'm trying to be funny or just a wiseacre. From his expression, or lack thereof, neither is relevant to his duties; he turns and I follow.

The route we take passes closely enough to the knot of folks discussing me that I catch a few words.

"...ceased checks as a hunter. Ugly blade, though, doesn't fit."

"Private call. One search turns some Tev on Gen."

"Legal?"

"Doubt it."

"I just don't like his hist..."

"In here," the walking mountain says, pointing in an open door.

The room is small, but not as bad as the OES interrogation room in New Austin. There are chairs, a table, and at least a few obvious vid sensors. There aren't any people, but I suspect that is about to change as I hear a couple voices approaching from behind. I walk to the far end of the room and turn, expecting to greet the new arrivals. Oddly enough, the approaching speakers seem to have other things to do; they walk past the door without even a glance in.

Oh well, might as well pick a chair and try for a quick nap.

None of the furniture seems designed for comfort, but the chair I bet they send me to is less so. For now, I take one of the several along the left side of the table and put my head down on my arms.

I don't know if I got much or any sleep, but there is a hand shaking my shoulder.

"Mr. Ryan?"

Might as well leave them a bit uncertain, "Two eggs, over easy, bacon, wheat toast, and a large clisnas, please."

Someone is chuckling.

"Mr. Ryan, you aren't here for breakfast," someone else says, close enough that it is probably the one shaking me.

I look up and there are two folks present: a compact woman of indeterminate age who still has her hand close enough to guess that she did the shaking, and a young man in the livery of the local police.

"May I help you?" I ask, rather more groggily than I might prefer.

"Would you mind sitting over there?" The male asks rather sheepishly.

"Yes, this one is more comfortable. There are two others on this side."

I don't think he expected that response, he looks confused, like this is a breach of his well controlled but fragile routine.

The woman, however, takes it all in stride. "I am Agent Ellison of the Advocate's office. Agent Van Dyke has given me the details he observed from JonJohn's. I've read some of your history. Would you like to make a statement?"

"Don't forget his rights," the young officer says as he slumps into the chair meant for me.

Ellison looks me in the eye and asks, "Can we dispense with the hand-holding legal mumbo-jumbo? We both know the list I'd have to go through."

"By all means," I reply, knowing they disregard the rules if it suits them anyway.

"Good. What happened, say in the last few hours?"

I have both of their attention as I start, "I got a call from Banner, woke me up in the dead of night to meet him right away here in Prime..."

"It isn't the dead of night yet," youngster interrupts.

"It is at the plantation. Probably morning soon."

He looks about to speak but Ellison raises her hand and says, "Please continue, Mr. Ryan."

"Thanks. Anyway, he said it was important information. I flew into the starport, caught the rail, and did the cloak and dagger stuff he wanted me to do. That's when..."

"What kind of cloak and dagger stuff?" she asks.

"I was to find a booth in JonJohn's and order the super porterhouse and a couple pints of Guinness."

"And that was odd?"

"Yup, especially since I'd had dinner not that many hours ago. I told him so and he had said something to the effect that the steak was for him."

"And you thought he might have had information that was so important that you would get up and fly here in the middle of the night?"

"Yup. He said something about hearing my name mentioned. Things have been really strange lately, with a couple attempts on my life. Anyway, since I've flown his wing a few times before... honestly thought we were friends or at least friendly acquaintances, I figured he might be looking out for me if he heard something serious."

"Okay. Go on with your story."

"Well, I did what he said. Then he calls my mobi, tells me I've been followed, and asks me if I'll..."

"Followed? Do you know if you were followed?"

"Nope. If I was, I never knew."

The young and still unintroduced officer asks, "Is it even likely that you would be followed?"

"It's quite possible, a lot of folks seem to have an interest in me lately."

"Like?"

"Well, there are the folks at MARC, the OES, the Xi'An spies, and apparently some Tevarin from Gen working for a couple senators."

Well, I could have added the Imperator and perhaps the Pope and not have gotten so much disbelief expressed. Neither speaks, but I would suspect they both think I'm a certifiable nut-job.

"I know you have a bit of history with our office," the Advocacy lackey begins, "But I would appreciate it if you take this inquiry seriously."

"Let me assure you that I am, Agent Ellison."

"And the OES and Xi'An intelligence types might be following you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She nods like I've just made a mockery of her kind intent. Her tone doesn't drip sarcasm, but it comes pretty close as she asks, "And just why would Senators need to hire a Tevarin to follow you?"

"I have no clue. I just know that what the Major said was confirmed at least in part by what Dalton said tonight before he tried to off me."

"Major who?"

"Mc Something... OES type, assistant to Mr. Po. Um..." While I try to remember the Major's name I could swear that they are both thinking I'm making this stuff up. Honestly, would I believe it if I heard it without anything to back it up? Suddenly, my old brain clicks, "Major McMurdoe."

"And Major McMurdoe told you what?"

"That the person behind the attempts on my life was a middleman from Gen, a Tev named Hornek Tish. An assassin called 'Vixen' was supposed to have the kill for me, a male assassin in spite of the nic."

"And you think Tish was out to get you for what reason, again?"

"Not a clue."

"Do you seriously believe that Senators would have anything to do with trying to have you..." her mobi chimes annoyingly and she snaps at it, "I'm busy, can't you see the interrogation marker?"

Whomever on the other end seems to take offense, I can almost hear them even though she has just a tiny in-ear. Her expression changes suddenly and she looks at me with something akin to fear.

The young officer tries to pick up her line of questioning, "So why exactly are we to believe..."

"Come with me," she orders him, interrupting with a tone that silences him instantly.

They both head out into the hall. I fold my arms on the table and let my head sink back onto them.

…..

I'm not sure how much time has passed, but I am sure I've slept, if for no other reason than my arms have gone to sleep from the point my head was resting on all the way down to my fingertips.

Now, however, my name is being called from close at hand and I get the sense it is not the first time this person has called me. Looking up, I see Major McMurdoe sitting across from me with something of a bemused smile. I would swear that he is not at all pleased with the situation, but he is hiding the fact reasonably well. My final observation for the moment is that he appears a bit disheveled and I get the distinct impression he was asleep when whomever got him headed my way.

Seated beside the Major is a very calm character in what I suspect is a black ops version of light body armor. Being seated, it isn't obvious if he is packing weapons, but I rather doubt this one goes anywhere without them. Something in his demeanor reminds me of Mr. Bellforte.

The Major opens with, "Good evening, Mr. Ryan."

"Major," I reply before turning to the other person, "And I didn't get your name, sir."

"Jones."

"You must have a big family in the organization, I met another Jones just a week ago in..."

"Mr. Ryan," McMurdoe interrupts, looking for all the world like he wants to shut me up. "I understand you had some excitement earlier."

"Yup." Might as well cut to the chase, "So is Mr. Jones here to kill me?"

My grin fails as the Major soberly answers, "That is one of the options on the table."

"You have my attention," I reply, not breaking eye contact.

"Good. You named people earlier. You most certainly should not have done that."

"You're not telling me you used your real names... are you?"

"Actually, yes, I am. That is privileged information."

"Well, I guess no one told me that little detail."

"Consider the oversight corrected. You are not to give any details about your visit to our little paradise."

"When the Advocacy asks something, I'm not going to lie. I already know what life is like when they screw things up. I'm not giving them anything they can misinterpret to jerk me around with."

He nods like that is something he can agree with, "Granted, but you will not mention anything further and will refrain from mentioning anything in the future."

"Says the man who has never spent nine years as a guest of a Roussimoff Rehabilitation facility."

Jones shifts a little, he has a half interested look that makes me nervous... all the more so since his hands seems to be occupied with something under the table.

Quietly, the response comes, "Says the man with the authority to make sure you never leave this room alive."

"Unless you give me an alternative to lying or being framed by what I'm not allowed to answer," I look over at Jones and say, "Might as well get it over with."

Jones says nothing but waits, clearly for orders from McMurdoe.

"Just tell him to do it quick and clean, no drugs and no suffering," I offer the Major, who looks a little rattled that I'm taking the death option so well. "I rather go out with my boots on in a warm room than bleeding into my pressure suit on the bottom side of wreckage on some frigid little asteroid."

Jones smiles and nods.

The Major stares, holding eye contact. I've got nothing to lose and we make this a contest of wills... who will blink?

It is a tie, at least in my opinion. Jones moves suddenly, up and over the table to my side and I don't have to be told that the cold whatever pressed against my skull just below and behind my left ear is the business end of a weapon.

"Like I said, quick and clean, please."

Neither of them move.

I can hear my heart beating. Okay, that isn't true; 'pounding' is much more accurate than mere 'beating'. We're doing the locked eyes thing again, McMurdoe and I.

Still nothing... my racing heart is normalizing. I might at least go out with a semblance of peace. I wonder if there is anything after it's over... guess I'll probably find out shortly.

Or not... the Major speaks, "You have another alternative."

Then why all the drama, I wonder. "Which is?" I ask.

"Cite the UEE Statute that covers OES covert ops: OEGC 2741-171 Section 4."

"I'm not OES and how do you expect a nearly senile old man to remember something that long?"

He laughs, "I've reviewed your file, you are neither 'nearly senile' nor that forgetful. As for the membership, you don't have to be an Associate in the OES, merely a witness to classified information to cite that section of the Governmental Code. You are already a registered witness."

"So why all the drama with the weapon Jones still has against my head?"

"Because I haven't decided if you should survive yet."

…..

"You know," I say with a hint of annoyance filtering into my tone, "This is going to end badly if you don't make a decision soon."

The Major snorts and rather derisively asks, "And how would that happen?"

"Well, option one is that Jones here decides to shoot me on his own, probably because I would be trying to take the weapon away from him and doing everything I can to prove the old adage 'Old age and treachery beats youthful strength every time.'" I sense Jones shift just a bit at this, though I doubt he is afraid of me in the least.

"Second, I might actually succeed in taking the weapon, followed immediately by my shooting you for being such a pain in the ass. Of course, one or both of you might still get me before I get a shot off, so still no more me.

"Third, I might get the shot or shots off and then building security would rush in and shoot me down here near your stiffening bodies."

McMurdoe looks rather annoyed, "So any way you play it, you lose."

"But at least I would get to decide instead of playing your little phony game."

He shakes his head just a little, "No wonder the shrinks hate you." He gestures for Jones to resume his seat, which the man does.

"So, what's next?"

"We knock you out and relocate you somewhere where you have even less control."

"Like the interrogation rooms under the Xeno Affairs building? As I remember, you gave me an expense paid trip to a tropical island after that went so well."

Major McMurdoe does something with his mobi and says, "Would you pick up the guest please? Be sure to tell her nothing."

Moments later, the answer comes clearly, "Yes, sir."

The two of them rise and the Major says, "We will be back in a little while to see if your attitude can be changed."

"Tell Xin I'm not interested."

"No need to bother her, she is occupied this evening."

The door slips closed behind them as I'm putting my head back down. What other 'her' could he be referring to? The question teases my brain just enough that I don't sleep this time.

…..

Both the Major and Jones return to the table, the latter without any visible weapon for me to threaten to take away. He could probably break my neck without any difficulty, but that is another story.

"Ready to cooperate?"

"Ready to kiss my furry white buttocks?"

Into his mobi he says, "Send her in, please."

The door whisks open and a familiar woman's voice shouts, "Get your filthy hands off me!"

It is Camilla's voice.

She is dragged into the room by two of Jones' clones... well at least their physique is identical, if not their genes.

Camilla looks the worse for wear, hair messed up, clothes obviously thrown hurriedly on, and that look that would make a hungry somal run in terror. A third clone is tying a broad cloth gag over her mouth so nothing intelligible is coming out.

"Do I have your attention now, Mr, Ryan?"

"You have got to be kidding me."

"We at the OES do not have a sense of humor, or if we do, I am not aware of it." His tone is callous and indifferent and his expression lacks any of the smiling from earlier. He has the winning hand and doesn't want to dink around anymore. "Are you willing to play ball now, or will I need to have the young woman hurt?"

Anger and resistance fade from Camilla's eyes, replaced by shock and fear... those holding her could easily do real damage in mere moments.

I sigh and ask, "What was the legal citation again?"

"The UEE Statute that covers OES covert ops is OEGC 2741-171 Section 4. I've printed it out on a physical card for you and sent it to your mobi."

"OEGC 274..."

"OEGC 2741-171 Section 4."

"OEGC 2741-171 Section 4."

"Yes. If I hear you have spoken out again without permission, I will make sure this woman and her husband suffer the repercussions normally reserved for someone like you."

"You know MARC has your place bugged, right?"

"I really doubt it. Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I'm not sure I heard you say anything just now that I can have confidence in. Please try again." One of the thugs behind Camilla grabs her hair and pulls her head back. Through the gag she screams in pain and rage.

"Yes, I will do as you insist."

"Very good. You two are free to go."

Camilla is unceremoniously dumped into a chair and the five of them troop out. I move swiftly to Camilla and free first her hands and then loosen the gag.

Let me just say that nothing she says now should ever be put into print, it is definitely not family friendly. Finally, she winds down enough to look straight at me and ask, "Why did they do this to me? What did they want to get you to do?"

"Not answer questions about them."

"And you let them kidnap me and beat Arron up over that?"

"They didn't tell me they were going to do any of that. First they threatened me, but then they just went away and only returned just before they brought you in. I didn't know you two were in danger."

"You're in real danger, too. You need to get out of this business before these thugs get out of hand."

"I think things are already so far out of my control that I'm not sure where to turn. Did they tell you I shot someone tonight?"

"No! Why?"

"He was trying to kill me."

She looks stricken, "Oh Shawn... you gotta get out before some whoaho does you in."

"You're probably right, Camilla..." I sigh. "You are probably right."

…..

The Advocacy types gave us no further trouble, I didn't even have to recite the OEGC 2741-171 Section 4 stuff... they just led us out and told me that if they needed anything further they would contact me. Now I'm walking with Camilla to the nearby monorail to catch the line out to the space port and my 350R. We move cautiously through the people on the platform and I wonder if I'm being watched or stalked. I do try to surreptitiously watch for anyone tailing us, but I really have no idea what to look for, so there isn't much chance I could catch them if I saw them. Besides, my idea of watching for someone following us is probably based more on vids than reality; I doubt real spies write their methods into the scripts for the actors to reveal to the cosmos.

A train door opens next to us and we slide in with the rest of those headed for the flight-line.

Camilla leans close as we stand near the end of the car and asks. "Do you think someone is following you?"

"Don't know."

She glances around, "They all look suspicious to me."

"What about those two toddlers?"

Laughing, she replies, "Clever disguises, of course."

We both get a chuckle out of this and I see her relax a little.

…..

We have arrived at the hangar without incident, and the 350 responds to commands and opens properly. Inside, I set up a jumpseat for Camilla and help her strap in. I really don't think she likes to fly, or perhaps she has never thought about flying with me at the yoke.

I drop rather stiffly into the pilot's seat.

Duncan offers his challenge, "Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

"You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

"Bite m e, Duncan."

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"Duncan, please scan both your software and the ship for any signs of tampering."

"You got it."

I watch as numerous systems report their diagnostics onto the multitude of glas before me.

"Nothing you didn't already know about."

"Fair enough, let's fire the bird up."

The sounds of start sequence invades the space around me. Over my shoulder, I announce to Camilla, "We will be out of here in a few minutes, have you home in a half hour tops."

"You taking us into space to get there?"

"It's quicker that way... why, would you rather I not?"

Camilla is uncharacteristically silent, I wonder if she heard me.

A quiet voice asks, "Can I see the stars when we are up there?"

There is a huge smile in my voice as I answer, "Of course! We can take all the time you want to look at them."

"I've never seen them from space."

"Then I'll certainly make sure you see them this trip."

"Thank you."

…..

Camilla sits in the pilot's throne, controls locked out for the moment. Awestruck wonder dominates her features as she sees the Great Banner for the first time without atmosphere to dim it.

"Wow!"

"Yup," I agree.

I would swear I can hear her humming something, but she is keeping it so quiet that I'm not sure and I don't want to interrupt if she is.

Finally, she says, "I used to think you must be exaggerating when you talked about the stars. I was wrong."

"First trip is almost always like this. And for those of us who are losing our minds, every trip seems new."

"Oh stop it. You aren't losing you mind, old man."

"How would you know?"

"Experience, Mr. Ryan, experience."

…..

It is a subtle maneuver to turn a ship around in the hangar without blowing anything not secured completely away. It takes skill and alertness, and should never be attempted by anyone impaired by chemicals or lack of sleep. While I haven't had any drugs to impair me, exhaustion more than makes up for the lack, slowing my reactions and dimming my ability to anticipate problems. I catch motion out of the corner of my eye as I think I'm deftly pivoting the 350R to face out for takeoff. The motion turns out to be one of the rolling tool-cases I have on hand... laden with at least a hundred kilos of tools... and it is accelerating towards... (sigh).

I set the craft down and open the hatch for Camilla to head up to the house. A quick survey of the damage indicates that I'm going to be cleaning up for a while. I think I'll run up to the house real quick and see how Arron is doing and get some work clothes.

…..

Arron and Brother Patrick are listening to Camilla's story as I walk into the big room. I motion to the two men to stay put and head upstairs for that quick change.

Somehow, the smell of old coveralls dried on a clothes-line in fresh air just speaks to me. How many times have I wished to just stay here and work the land. I meant to once... but the stars kept calling me.

I'm really tired, but if I don't get things picked up, I'll be in real trouble getting motivated to do it tomorrow. Down the stairs I go, Camilla is still weaving her tale and I leave the lot of them to it.

…..

I really didn't do as much damage as might have happened, several cabinet doors appear to have gotten pushed closed by blast and thruster wash, ensuring that their contents are at least moderately secure, albeit rather in disarray.

The tool-case is the biggest mess, it hit one of the drain tracks and laid over on its side... with open drawers disgorging their contents onto the floor and surrounding furniture. The impact must have been a doozy, the upper and lower chests came free of each other and...

BOOOOOMMMMMM!

I'm tumbling from a shock wave. Okay, tumbling is an understatement, I'm tossed like a child might angrily toss a toy during a tantrum. I'm dimly aware that I've smacked hard into something unforgivingly solid, my head feels about like it will explode and there is some liquid getting into my left eye.

I'm crumpled against something unyielding, I can't see, there is dust and smoke and an odd lack of air... I'm... I...

…..

"This one's alive!" I can't place the voice. I seen rather unable to see and nothing seems familiar.

Another voice is coming closer, "I need a stretcher over here stat! Gordy, get the medkit from my bag! You there, I need help with this guy!"

Whomever is giving the orders seems to have come close to me.

"Can you hear me? Can you tell me where it hurts?" He yells as if to a nearly deaf man.

"I can..." wow, breathing REALLY hurts, "Hear you... don't yell."

"Okay, old fella, just tell me where it hurts."

"All over, but mostly my head."

"How about your neck?"

"No more than any of the rest of me."

"Can you move your fingers, let me see you move your fingers."

I do so and he says, "Good, good. Okay, just rest. We are going to move you onto a stretcher. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"What's your name?"

"Shawn Ryan."

"Ryan, you from here?"

"This is my place. Well, with Arron and Camilla as partners."

"Anyone else?"

"No, why?"

"We recovered three bodies from the..."

I don't hear anything more, my mind is screaming and I suspect I'm bawling like a child.

…..

It seems like my brain is fogged in... it's like that sleepy morning fog in the fall when the sea breezes have carried low altitude moisture laden clouds into the hills around the plantation and walking outside means barely seeing your own hand in front of your face.

I seem to be sitting, at least that is what my eyes are hinting at, but I have no clues about where or when I am. Is this a dream? Maybe if I get up... hmmm... nope, not doing that. Actually, I seem unable to move. Whatever is wrong with me?

There are people in the room, but I recognize none of them. It would seem that people here like to dress in white, but I can guess nothing more.

There are noises coming from my right side, but I'm not sure what is making them and can't seem to make my head turn that way.

This all seems very tiring... maybe I'll take a nap and it will all make sense later.

…..

Awake again, I think.

More people in white.

Hmmm... and one in green and brown. Well, now that I look harder, I can tell that the person is green and the clothing is brown. Fascinating. There are sounds coming at me from all sides, but again, I'm not making any sense of them. Is this some new type of music? Definitely not my taste, I like melody and rhythm and the notes to sound good together.

I still can't move, is this a complicated dream of some kind? If so, I'll never understand it.

I wonder if I can talk... no, guess not.

A thought occurs: I'm drugged and restrained somehow. It makes sense, but that begs the question: why?

Again, too much mental exercise makes Shawn a tired boy; I feel myself falling asleep.

…..

Hello! I'm awake and now I HURT! This isn't dreamy, this is TORTURE!

"Mr. Ryan, can you hear me now?"

I know my voice won't work, but I try to answer anyway. To my complete surprise, words come out, "Yeah, I think so."

"I'm Doctor Harrington. I lowered your medication dose to where we seem able to communicate."

"I hurt."

"I'm sure I can't imagine."

"How bad?"

"Skull fracture and a concussion to go with it, three broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, broken collar bone out closer to the shoulder than the spine, numerous scrapes and cuts, but nothing else serious. You are restrained and under a lot of medication while the stemcells rebuild material for you."

"Joy. What happened?"

"You survived some kind of explosion at fairly close quarters."

"Explosion?" It all comes rushing back and I remember the night in the hangar, being tossed like a toy, and falling against a stone wall. "Oh no..."

"Look, I guess you've been through a lot, but there are several officials from several agencies who want to talk with you. They seem rather insistent, in fact, and my own supervising surgeon ordered me to bring you out at least long enough to answer."

"Camilla and Arron?" I ask

He sadly shakes his head and I ask, "Brother Patrick?"

"Was that who the third was? I've heard of him, no one here knew much more than that he once served with the Marines and had disappeared from the grid decades ago."

"He was a monk."

"One of the ones from Weymouth Priory? I'll notify someone over there."

Through the drugs I still have in me, I know I will feel real pain when I can over losing my friends, but for the moment, I can't seem to connect with my emotions. "My other staff?"

"They haven't brought us anyone else, either injured or deceased."

"Okay." It all seems a world away, like I'm considering facts offered by some talking head from a news feed.

A new person has arrived. He confers quietly with the doctor and then addresses me, "Mr. Ryan, I'm the Fire Marshall for the Torre Nor second district, where your plantation is. The doctor says he has lowered your medication enough that you can answer some questions."

"Sure. I'll try to help."

"Good. Do you know how long that LNG bottle had been in the ground?"

"Well, it was there when I bought the place maybe twenty years ago."

"Have you had it safety checked since then?"

"Yeah, I think so. Camilla and Arron were my managers until they bought a controlling share."

"So you do not know for certain."

"Well, no, but..."

"Have you smelled any of the odorizers that the local LNG carries?"

"No. You think..."

"Do you know if there had been any cooking in the hour or so before the blast?"

"Well, no. Camilla just returned and Arron usually prefers not to try."

"I see."

"What do you think happened?"

"Well, that large an explosion must have been the LGN bottle unless you or your friends were storing a lot of high explosives."

"No, and neither the 315 nor the 350 use any explosive ordinance."

"So it was a gas explosion. There are some inspectors coming up tomorrow to poke around, but I'm confident enough that I'll already have this in my report."

I'm rather getting tired again and my answer is muted at best, "Okay."

He turns and walks away.

My doctor asks, "How are you doing?"

"Tired."

"I'll let you sleep again before any more visitors."

I feel myself getting foggy again; whatever he is using, it works quickly.


	14. Chapter 13 – The Usual Suspects

Regaining awareness brings the reality that I'm listening in on a rather heated argument. My eyelids seem loathe to open, and I choose for the moment to just listen in.

At least one voice is Xi'An, though not Kree'Gna, "He is an Imperial contractor, your own government agrees!"

I do think I recognize my doctor's voice, "I don't care what any of you say, I'm the attending physician and he is NOT going anywhere until I say so!"

"We will have him moved to our hospital, doctor." That voice is human, but doesn't sound like anyone I'm eager to let have his way.

"You will not!" the Xi'An retorts.

"I say he isn't leaving my jurisdiction until I've had a chance to question him." That voice is vaguely familiar, but I can place her right now.

"You will get another phone call and..."

"No, I won't. The High Advocate's office is involved now and they outrank you before the Imperator." She sure sounds spunky, but any Advocacy agent is likely not a friend.

"We'll see about that."

"He is our contractor and a foreign agent in your eyes. His contract allows us to take custody for his protection."

"What kind of protection do you intend? How do we know you didn't try to kill him in the first place?"

"Us?! Your people are reported to have threatened him with something like this!"

"Who said that?"

"I did," the lady agent responds with enough ice in her tone that I feel the chill myself.

"Prove it."

"With pleasure." I wonder if that is the woman who got pulled from questioning me last night. Whoever she is, there is blatantly no love lost between her and the OES weenie. Anyway, if I've got this about right, the only parties missing right now are MARC and the Tevarin from Gen or the folks he works for.

I finally peel my eyes open and look at the motley assemblage. There are actually two Xi'An present, a diplomat I've never met and Ksan Ko'Kree. The latter notices my waking and says something to the diplomat.

Meanwhile, the Advocacy agent is indeed the one from my questioning last night. She seems to have a fairly high ranking Agent at her shoulder, a person who is looking my way and happens to note that I am stirring.

Next to them and obviously arguing is the OES whomever, with the big guy from last night backing him up... um... Jones, yeah, that's him. He sees my eyes and nods to acknowledge that I recognize him.

There are two UEE Marines guarding the door, looking for all the empire like they are about to repel Vandies.

Finally, there is my doctor, looking more like a lion than he has any right to. I think he sees one of the others notice my waking and turns toward me.

"Mr. Ryan, I'm sorry they have disturbed your rest. How are you feeling?"

They all seem to stop talking to hear my response.

"Pretty bad, I hurt all over. Head especially, but the collarbone and ribs aren't far behind."

"You are mending nicely, but I keep trying to tell these people that two weeks is not enough to recover from your traumas, much less enough to relocate."

"Who said anything about relocating?" It might behoove me to support his case, "I'm in your care, doctor. You tell me when I'm ready for the next steps."

"We are here for your protection," the Xi'An diplomat insists, though without any introduction or courtesy.

"You will heal better under our care," OES talking head informs me.

"I side with is doctor, he isn't going anywhere," Agent whomever states.

I decide to make this a consensus, "What about the Marines? I'd like to know what they would like to do with the situation."

I get glares from everyone except Ksan Ko'Kree... he seems to be thinking something through. He whispers into the diplomat's ear again.

The Xi'An diplomat recovers his calm and looks my way. "I am Torsi Leelk, Diplomat to the UEE. You are Shawn Ryan, Imperial contractor assigned to Kree'Gna. Do you wish to recover here if you are protected from further attempts at your life? We are willing to transport you at any time to the Embassy to secure your convalescence."

"As long as my doctor believes I am best served here, I would rather remain here, Sir."

"He has no say in this, we are going to move him." OES weenie doesn't give up.

"The High Advocate's office supports keeping him here," the higher ranking Agent finally speaks.

I smile, "Then it's settled, yes? Anyone for a nice game of cards?"

"So," I ask the doctor, "Did I understand you correctly, the explosion was two weeks ago?"

He looks my way and smiles thinly, "Yes, you were brought here two weeks ago last night."

"I feel like I've missed things."

"You have," Agent Ellison states, "For one, we've found out that the explosion was most likely a missile or smart bomb. You wouldn't happen to know who would like to kill you, now would you?"

"Aside from people who might be in this room?"

Everyone is looking around except the agent... who might have a guilty look flash across her face for just an instant before control descends. "Meaning whom?" Ellison asks quietly.

"Well, I can't divulge all the possible players, though I might have to cite OEGC 2741-171 Section 4 for at least one party."

The OES bungler and Jones both look stricken, but they recover quickly.

"There might also be members of a certain caste who think I'm not for real and who might have threatened me as well." Diplomat Leelk looks as troubled as I've seen a Xi'An look recently, but Ksan Ko'Kree just stares expressionlessly.

"There may also be the person who hired Vixen, Hornek Tish."

She again looks like she thinks I'm seeing something in her, "You've mentioned him before," she snaps, then suddenly says in a calmer tone, "Yes, that might be a good possibility."

I wonder what is going on there? What could possibly provoke such an intense, almost gut level response?

Anyway, I continue, "I suppose there are any number of folks I've shot at or brought in for bounty over the years who might have a grudge, presuming they are still alive and have the means."

"Anyone come to mind?"

"No, not particularly... I've been out there hunting off and on for something like thirty-five years now." I try to think of any other suspects, "Oh, though I've been assured they don't really do things like that, it could have been MARC."

OES guy rolls his eyes like I just suggested fairies or elves. Agent Ellison seems unfazed, as does her companion. Torsi Leelk glances Ksan Ko'Kree's way and the latter just does the Xi'An equivalent of a shrug in apparent response.

My doctor does seem to have taken the conversation to heart, "Are you endangering this hospital or the staff here?"

"I sure hope not, Doc."

"That's not all that comforting."

"Whomever would have to be raving to go after a slice of the hospital, considering the response such wanton murder would usually bring. I think they might try to do a one-on-one but assuming the Marines there can't be bribed, I think whoever will just wait until I leave."

He nods and looks again at those assembled, "I think this is enough fun for my patient for today. I want him to rest and complete his recovery."

There is grumbling, but everyone files out. Well, except for a young nurse's aid who slips in and quietly asks the doctor something. He looks my way and then nods to her.

"Your niece wants to visit."

"Niece?"

From the doorway a stunning thirty-something says, "Lanai, Gloria's kid."

"My, how you have grown," I tell her, trying to keep from lying while letting the doctor know it's okay for him to leave.

"I wasn't sure you would recognize me on looks alone."

"Gloria said you were beautiful, but she obviously has no clue how far above that term you actually appear."

I think she is blushing, "Why thank you, kind sir."

She flashes a smile and I know I would be in serious trouble if I weren't mostly immobilized. Next to her, Xin is a rather plain woman. Her skin is warmly tanned, her figure is perfectly proportioned, and her long dark hair swishes about her waist in the most incredible fashion. But above all, her face seems that of a woman and a child at the same time; exquisitely shaped eyes, nose, and mouth... not quite Asian, but not Caucasian either.

"Where are you from?" I ask, mesmerized.

"A small archipelago in Earth's Pacific Ocean called Hawaii." She smiles in the most fetching manner and says, "Gloria said you would find me interesting."

"Gloria lied. Interesting is not a word that springs readily on your arrival. 'Marry me' is the term that comes foremost to mind."

She laughs, a mirthful sound like the playful tumbling of magical waters over smooth stones. "Well, Uncle TOG, we need to keep up appearances, don't we?"

I sigh. "Yeah, I guess so. If only I were thirty years younger and filthy rich."

"Oh, you never know," she teases, "Twenty younger and financially secure would be fine."

"I was born at the wrong time."

"Actually, I bet you were born at the right time and who knows what a Flunkie will do for her charge?"

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure I'd want that." I think for a minute then honestly admit, "What am I saying? Any excuse is just fine."

She laughs again and the room brightens markedly.

…..

The room is quiet; it has been so since visiting hours ended and everyone left. I think I was dozing and something has unsettled my nap.

Eyes open and I realize that there is a man standing silently at the foot of the bed... or whatever this contraption I'm secured to is called. He is watching me from under a broad hood that shades his eyes.

I wonder if I can raise an alarm in time to save myself... surely this is an assassin. But he seems odd for a killer, there is almost an aura of relaxed peace about the man; if this is a killer, I'm sure my time is up.

In a quiet baritone he speaks, "I am sorry I have disturbed you, Shawn Ryan."

"No problem, um..."

"Brother Colum. I lead the community that Brother Patrick was part of."

"Oh," I wonder if there is something proper to say, but have to resort to, "Well, I'm really sorry about his death and all. I don't know..."

"Peace, sir," he interrupts, but with respect and dignity. "Brother Patrick enjoyed tending the sick and injured. We had a report that Arron was injured and his wife Camilla kidnapped; Brother Patrick insisted on going to tend to Arron and give comfort."

"So I'm the cause of..."

"Hesh, hesh, hesh. I'm not here to lay blame and you should not be trying to take it. I came to see how you are doing. Brother Patrick had said several times that your were a remarkable person and I thought I might come by again and check on your recovery."

Again? "You've been before?"

"Thrice, sir," he states with an easy smile.

"I'm... um... well... thanks."

He laughs and I feel a bit more relaxed myself. "You needn't thank me, but I accept your appreciation. I have been wondering, would you like us to hold off on the wake for Camilla and Arron until you are able to attend?"

"Wake?"

He seems to think about my question. "It is an old traditional way to celebrate a life, or in this case, two lives. In most cases, it is held in a home, but since your home is rather unfit for anything right now, the flock they were part of has asked if we would host it in our meeting hall. We have agreed, but asked that it wait until we can see if you wish to attend."

"Um, sure. Do I have to do anything?"

He laughs again, "Other that be there if you want to come? No. Though I would advise that you wear earplugs if you don't want the music to infect you with uncontrolled desires to dance around and be joyful."

"That sounds like fun."

"It should be indeed."

"I'll come if you wait until I'm released."

"I will make sure it is so. Is there anything I can do for you now, Shawn Ryan?"

"No, that is more than enough, sir... um... Brother... what was it again?"

Smiling, he replies, "Colum. m. Colum."

"I'll try to remember that, Colum."

"Fair enough, Shawn, fair enough." As his words fade, he turns and walks out the door into the hall beyond. I hear him greet one of the nurses by name as he continues down the hall. Even his footsteps now are fading.

…..

Morning has come and with it a new pain: Doctor Harrington has unstrapped me from the restraints and my mending bones are getting their first real stresses.

I am in the physical eval and therapy room, grunting and sweating along with all the other invalids. Doc Harrington approaches with a rather attractive young woman, a nurse I guess, tagging along.

Why is it that now that I'm too old to be of interest there seem to be so many cuties around? When I was their age, all I ever saw were jaded waitresses and the occasional amazon who looked more masculine than the guy in the mirror. Maybe I should have gotten shot up more... on the other hand, maybe not.

Doc starts, "Shawn, this is Erica Vas. She's been assigned to work with you on your physical therapy program." There is an odd look in his eyes and a hint of disapproval in his expression, but I have no hints about what, unless it has to do with Erica.

"Ms. Vas," I say looking again at her. She has that penetrating eye contact that reminds me of Xin, a stare that seems to be assessing rather than friendly.

"I rather you call me Erica, Shawn."

The doctor has retreated a step or two, but I see him grimace from behind her back before turning away.

"Oh, Doc?" I call out. He turns back and smiles wanly. "What is the prognosis for release and such? I told Brother Colum that I would do the wake thing."

"You met Colum? Jix!" He returns now with a genuine smile. "I'll have to review your progress today and maybe tomorrow before I have an idea how those bones are holding, but maybe this week or more likely next. I'll drop by tonight to see how you did and give you a preliminary opinion."

"Excellent."

He turns and walks away again.

"So, Ms. Vas, you got the short straw?"

"Erica. And I don't know what you mean, Shawn."

"Let's stick with Ryan, or Mister Ryan. I don't really like people who presume familiarity before I have reason to agree to it. I'll call you Erica if you insist, but I'm less likely to cooperate with whatever torture you have scheduled for me if you insist on calling me Shawn."

"Would TOG suit you better?"

"TOG is fine."

"Then I will compromise that far, TOG."

"I am curious, where did you hear TOG used?"

In a voice carefully modulated not to carry beyond us, she answers calmly, "Mr. Po, Major McMurdoe, and Xin Po briefed me about you. We have decided that it is fine that you remain here, but we do not want you so openly available to the... public."

"Meaning anyone who might ask questions." I smile, "Nothing like a real assassin managing physical therapy, what better way to kill me than with an accidental heart attack or hemorrhage?"

"If I were here to kill you, you would already be dead TOG."

"That's reassuring."

"It should be. If it matters, we didn't kill your friends. They were our leverage over you, so what would have been the point?"

"I'm not a spy, I have no idea what makes sense to you types."

She studies me again. "You don't trust me, do you?"

"Not a chance."

"Good. Trust no one."

…..

The cruel taskmaster this afternoon is still the evil natured Ms. Vas and I rather unhappily remain within her domain... the rehab room with its imitation of a large, well equipped, sparkling gym.

"Alright, TOG, get your ass in gear!"

"I thought I already did that," I try to retort, though without enough emphasis.

"Going from reverse to parked doesn't count."

For a moment, I ponder rebelling, but only for a moment.

"Very funny," I say before starting the sit-ups I've been avoiding.

"Yeah, pudge-boy, laugh all you want, you get an extra five if you keep it up."

No, no, no, no, no... don't make her mad.

"One," she states.

No. Not even gonna make her mad.

"Two."

I am so out of shape.

"Three," she counts with something like annoyance.

My stomach already hurts.

"Four."

This could take all day.

"Five. My ten year old sister could do this faster."

Great, have her do them then.

"Six."

This is supposed to be helping my bones how again?

"Who said you could slow down? Okay, seven."

I'm getting lightheaded... well, I wish I had such an excuse.

"Eight."

My poor tummy has been doused in fire.

"Nine. Or was that eight?" she teases with a twisted grin.

NO! Please, oh please...

"Ten. About time. Okay, push-ups."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Not a chance, you old geezer. When I'm done with you you'll last more than six minutes."

"What are you..." I'm suddenly sure I'm blushing, "Oh..."

It takes a few moments, but I mentally start questioning: what was it Gloria said about the OES report? Something about being 'easy to manipulate with sex'... I wonder if Erica here intends to seduce me or otherwise use her body as a tool.

On the other hand, she has a nice figure and is probably Dora's age... sex with her could be a lot of fun if I can forget that she would be doing it because it is part of her job. I guess in a way, I would be paying for her with control... control over me. That idea troubles me and she looks less appealing as I assume the position for the required push-ups.

…..

Lanai is sitting in a chair facing the doorway when I arrive back at the room. Erica, has of course decided that she will escort me everywhere, obviously listening in whenever I speak with anyone.

Seeing Lanai, Erica announces, "This is a private room. Please leave."

Lanai gets an obvious kick out of being so rudely ordered about, her smile widening to heartbreaking proportions as she rises. "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss... I didn't catch your name."

"My name is irrelevant, please leave us."

I consider speaking up, but I think Lanai is about to take her own corrective action and I honestly want to see how this plays out.

Lanai strides directly at us, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Erica shift her weight as if to defend herself. Lanai, however leans towards me, kisses my cheek, and plainly asks, "How have you been today, Uncle Shawn? You seem to have picked up an admirer... did you notice?"

"Hello Lanai. Erica is my..."

"I am in charge of his physical therapy, that is all you need know. Now you may leave, I have things to discuss with TOG."

"Of course I may leave, but I shan't."

Erica is turning a shade of red normally reserved for volcanoes and disrespected Caucasian males. "Do not try my patience."

"So far you haven't shown any, towards me or apparently my uncle. Can't try something that isn't there." Lanai delivers her words calmly but with obvious intent to jab at Erica's temper.

Maybe this is a good time to settle things down a bit, "Ladies, can't we..."

"Shut it, TOG!" Erica orders, obviously not used to being played with. To Lanai, she continues, "You have no idea who you are messing with, bitch."

"On the contrary, you are an OES Associate and a seriously inexperienced one at that."

Erica may have expected just about anything... but obviously NOT that. "How... who are you?"

"I am Lanai, dear Uncle Shawn's favorite."

I nod, she is indeed my favorite, though she isn't my niece.

Something in Erica snaps and she makes to slap Lanai.

I would swear I've seen this play out before in some Kung Fu holo or vid, Erica trying to strike Lanai and Lanai expertly blocking, parrying, or dodging everything. It is actually very entertaining, though I suspect Lanai is getting close to fed up with Erica's aggression.

Finally, Doc Harrington comes in the door and rebukes the both of them, "Ladies! Stop that! This is a hospital!" To Erica he adds, "I was told you would behave as a professional. If you can't, I will insist you are replaced by someone who can."

She looks at him with ill hidden venom, but says nothing in response. To me, however, she says, "TOG, we are leaving."

"No, I want to visit with the Doctor and Lanai. Besides, this is my room. You may leave now, however."

"You..." She is seething, but while she stares daggers at me, she seems to decide that right now isn't the proper time to try to press the matter. She slumps into a chair near at hand and just glares at the three of us.

"I would like you to see some of the results from today, Mr. Ryan," the doc says.

"Sure."

"Come with me."

Lanai sits down, obviously to wait, but Erica rises.

"You will wait here," Harrington instructs the Associate. I see her look about the room, probably back at the now busy Lanai. I believe she is beginning to see that I'm not quite the pushover she expected.

...

We walk into what I presume is Doc Harrington's office and I immediately notice that he has a wall sized glas that is tuned to a camera somewhere in my room.

"You keeping an eye on me too?"

"I had a nurse warn me that things were likely to get out of hand if the two women got together. Frankly, I'm rather disappointed."

"Yeah, they did let themsel..."

"No," he interrupts, "In you. You looked like you were enjoying that cat fight instead of doing something to end it."

"I tried..."

"If that little verbal thing is what you call trying, then we need to check to make sure that you weren't castrated in the blast."

"Excuse me?"

"You have two territorial females who at least appear capable of maiming or killing that you let get to the point they are trading an escalating series of blows; from what I can gather it was over you. Now you want me to believe you couldn't do anything to stop it? This is a hospital, we have people come in here for help, not martial arts battles."

"Look, this wasn't my idea."

"No, and standing up for you to keep the lot of government and Xeno hotheads from ripping you to pieces wasn't my job, was it?"

"You're making me a bad guy here?!"

"You obviously wanted the other girl to take Erica on, your body language and expressions encouraged her. I take it, by the way, she is another spy type of some sort and not your niece."

"Her name is Lanai and she is a MARC Flunkie."

He shakes his head in disgust, "You might give her some credit; in spite of her beauty, I don't think that woman is likely to have flunked anything in her life."

"Oh, yeah, I completely agree. Flunkie is a title they actually seem proud of; believe me, I have no clue why."

"Who is Mark?"

"MARC is the group that got me into this whole mess in the very beginning. MARC is the organization the OES types don't believe even exists."

"Oh, I do remember something that they acted incredulous about. Well, at least Erica asked permission to keep an eye on you."

"MARC never asks, they just show up or hack your networks or something like that."

He gestures towards the glas as he asks, "So they could have this whole thing?"

"Actually, I would expect they do if they think it worth while for their data stores or whatever it was they called them."

"Well, I really wish she had shown me the courtesy of at least letting me know."

I decide it might be time to change the subject, "So, how am I doing, Doc?"

"Well, except for the skull fracture, you seem to check out okay. While Ms. Vas doesn't seem to know the appropriate PT routines to stress test each area individually, she seems to have given all but the skull itself a good workout over the course of the day."

"So, how would I find out about my head?"

"Let me ask you: are you ready to face that feeding frenzy again?"

"Good point. If I'm not, where are we?"

"I would like another day of observation and probably a second to have a chance to run several imaging tests."

"And if I am?"

"You are cleared to go, just be careful about rapid gravity or pressure changes. No zero G for another week unless you get cleared."

"What could happen?"

"Worst case? You get the last headache you will ever need, it will make you cry in agony, and then you will die."

"Um... yeah, let's go with the first option, I need to make sure I'm okay before I go back to work, since work IS in space."

"Makes sense to... oh, no." The doctor looks very tired and a glance at the glas tells me why: a Xi'An has arrived at the doorway to my room... and it is Dnong Ksack.

…..

If walking to my room to try to head off any fireworks wasn't bad enough, Agent Ellison catches up with us as the Doc and I hurry there.

"I need some time to ask questions."

"Doc?"

"I don't see why not," Doc Harrington responds, "Though we probably need to get to your room first."

"Why," Ellison sounds puzzled and annoyed, "What is so important in his room?"

Over my shoulder I toss, "The start of the next Xi'An war?"

"Oh..." she replies, her voice trailing off.

I turn the corner into my doorway and almost walk square into Dnong Ksack's back. He turns quickly, his movements fluid and powerful in keeping with the long Xi'An tradition of martial arts training. But upon facing me, he relaxes his stance and returns to being the ornery looking dinosaur I've always known him to be.

"Shawn Ryan. You have female company; are you healed enough for breeding?"

The two women seem about to explode, but I manage to quickly answer, "No, they are here as minders, making sure that I don't upset their agencies' controlling interests." I turn to those in the room and introduce them.

"This is Doctor Harrington, the physician who is tending to my recovery. Doctor, Dnong of the Seer's caste." The two do slight informal bows.

"Next, this is Lanai, a representative of MARC who is keeping tabs on me." At the Mention of 'MARC', both Dnong and Erica turn to stare. Lanai rises from her chair and as the doctor already has, she exchanges slight bows with Dnong. I would swear that he is genuinely interested in her, though precisely why is not apparent.

Lanai asks quietly, "Will you not share your astranym?"

"No," he says clearly in very good English.

"Next, we have Erica Vas, the OES Associate with the unenviable task of trying to shut me up."

She does indeed look rather put out over what I've just told the Xi'An, but I continue the introduction, "Erica, this is Dnong."

She nods, but doesn't rise.

Behind me, Agent Ellison clears her throat.

"Oh and last but obviously not least, this is Agent Ellison of the Imperial Advocate's Office. Agent Ellison, Dnong."

"All the suspects together," Lanai says with something of a smirk. "No assassinations tonight, folks."

Erica takes offense first, "It wasn't us. If we wanted to kill him, we would have done it."

"There were three people in the building that got bombed, an IR sourcing would have shown such, as would an IR guidance system," Lanai states, "Only in this case a guy from off the grid was the third... How can we be sure you didn't plan to get Mr. Ryan AND Camilla and only Shawn laying a tool case on its side saved him from the hit?

Erica glares at her.

"What about you?" Ellison asks Lanai while Erica continues to fume. "You sure seem to have thought this out.

"Indeed, why couldn't I be working for Hornek Tish? Is it maybe because someone else has been communicating regularly with him and he would be unlikely to want a second contact about so sensitive a subject?"

Ellison seems frozen in place, she could have just died for all the movement that's visible.

Dnong is smiling, as bizarre as that seems, "And me?"

"You are the one on the Xi'An side who has been playing against Shawn since you both first met in Hadur. You originally could have cared less that information about MARC might have been gleaned from watching our interests, I would suggest that you meant for him to die or be arrested on Rihlah."

"Very good, but very obvious."

"Of course, but that is all I need say now, don't you think?"

"So, do I get to live for another night?" I ask. My question is supposed to be rhetorical, but as the four of them look sharply my way, I do have to wonder.

I feel so tired; I take a bedside chair and sag into it. They can resume their sparring if they wish, I've worked hard today and would like a rest.

At this stage of the game, I don't know what or who to expect, so I'm not disappointed that the last person I would have listed as likely to show up actually picks this moment to do so: Kree'Gna.

He looks about the room and bows slightly to Dnong before he turns my way and with a warm smile offers, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

Maybe if I follow the best behavior I can change the atmosphere in here; I rise, motion towards my chair and offer it to him, "I would be honored if you would take my place."

He seems to know I'm searching for a change of tone and replies, "I am honored but wish to stand for now. Please, keep your seat my friend."

"Thank you. How have you been?" I ask, noting that for the moment, everyone else is paying attention to our little exchange.

"Chash'anori. I miss my wing, but my duties have been pretty normal. And you?"

"Chash'ambosari. Well, maybe not quite: someone blew up my home and killed several friends..."

My voice cracks unexpectedly, my mind falters, and I can't get any more words out.

All of a sudden it hits me: Camilla and Arron and the strange but likable Brother Patrick... they are gone... forever. I can sense tears in my eyes... one escapes my right eye to start a moist trail down my cheek. Now there is a big one from my left eye, running along the edge of my nose and onto my lip to perch awaiting an excuse to fall further.

Only Doc Harrington and Kree'Gna seem moved by my emotion... well, maybe Lanai as well, but I'm not really looking her way, so it is just an impression. With the ferocity of a cloudburst, I suddenly have salty rivers and waterfalls tumbling down my face...

The Doc speaks, "We need to all give Mr. Ryan some space. Everyone out."

"Kree'Gna can stay," I try to say, but I think it comes out more as a sob.

The three girls do file out; I'm not at all sure what they think about my obvious weakness, but right now, I don't really care. Dnong Ksack glares at the doctor, but turns and retreats into the hallway, though he remains at the doorway. Last but not least, Harrington heads out himself, leaving only Kree'Gna and myself.

"You are struggling with your loss, Shawn Ryan?"

"Yeah," is all I can get out between sobs.

"I have never seen you so. They were nest-mates? No, the term I mean is..." he is thinking. "Family? They were family?"

"Not by blood, but by friendship."

"May their memory be honored."

"But why did they have to die? It's not fair." I hear my words as if some seven year old were saying them, but the raw emotions they represent seem to be those of a little boy hiding in this old guy's body.

"You have lost many friends in combat, is this not the same, Shawn Ryan?"

"No, Kree'Gna, very different. They never asked for this. They were down to earth people, farmers at heart. It's my fault they died, if I have gotten killed in space, they would never have been hurt."

"You blame yourself because a murder that was meant for you hit someone else? Is that either fair or logical?"

I shake my head, but also blurt out, "Wasn't there a time or two in your youth that I remember you being upset over unfair death?"

"Yes, you remember well. I have grown wiser, but perhaps less understanding. Please forgive my insensitivity, Shawn Ryan."

"Nothing to forgive, Kree'Gna. I guess I've never really grieved before, I don't know how to do it right."

"Should I come back after you have had some time?"

"I will be released some time in the next couple days, I'm not sure what the fantastic four out there have planned for me, or what's left of me after they tear me apart."

"I could still use a wing, my friend."

The torrents dry as quickly as they started, leaving their wet riverbeds as the cooling reminder that they existed.

"And I could probably use the chance to get back up there," I answer, "But I need to deal with what happened first. I've gotta make sure the plantation and the people who work for us... uh... me... who work for me are being taken care of."

"I understand, Shawn Ryan. Whenever you are ready, let me know."

In the mental lull from the grief storm, I decide to inquire, "May I ask you something?"

"Please do."

"Did you have anything to do with Ksan Ko'Kree arranging to have me kidnapped from that station before the trip to Rihlah? I don't believe that he rescued me... he had to have already been in that room, I never heard the door open."

Kree'Gna looks down at his hands; if he were a human, I would consider that a guilty look... but I'm not at all sure I'm reading that right.

Finally, he says, "We only follow orders. Please forgive if those orders contributed in any way."

I nod, "Yeah. I guess that's the best we can do some times."

He looks back up to meet my gaze, "You are a good human. I am sorry that I brought you these griefs."

"Yeah, well, I'm the one who accepted the risks."

"Do not be too hard on yourself, Shawn Ryan. Save a little anger for those who deserve it."


	15. Chapter 14 – A Haunted Silence

It is 0406 local time, the deep dark outside the hospital window is broken only by the glow of artificial lighting scattered about the grounds four stories below. There seems to be a path down there, the kind that meanders without a real destination. Seems rather appropriate to think about it, considering how my life has gone of late. The only thing missing is the fatal train-wreck I made of three innocent lives.

I need dawn, but haven't slept through the gloomy dark. Weariness wars with recrimination, then they ally to assault my sense of reason. How could this happen? Why?

Behind me, a throat clears. I spin, half expecting some OES baddie, but am instead greeted by Brother Colum's even smile. "Doctor Harrington sent word that you might be struggling with what happened. How are you doing, Shawn?"

I shrug, "About as well as can be expected."

"You have just ducked my question in a rather obvious fashion. Care to try for just a hint more reality?"

I look at him; he is prying, but doing it in such a way that I can't seem to get mad. "What's the difference?"

"Why are you up at four in the morning?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"You have never had cause to really grieve, have you?"

"About what?"

"My point exactly. We humans go through grief at losing those we love..."

"Wait a minute, I never did anything with Camilla and the two of them were faithful to each other as far as I could tell."

He nods and continues, "I do not mean 'love' in any sexual sense, Shawn. I mean 'love' like family, something Brother Patrick told me you do not actually have."

"Yeah, well, I did care about them and they about me. Didn't really know Patrick, but he seemed okay."

"Do you believe in Someone greater than man?"

"You mean like a god? You trying to convert me?"

"No. Trying to understand who you may blame. It could be yourself, it could be another person, or even a group like perhaps the intelligence agency types who hound you. For those who are believers in Someone greater, there is often a blame that goes something like, 'If He/She were really powerful, He/She could have stopped this from happening'."

"What does it matter who I blame?"

"Anger is one of the steps grief takes. Anger that can at times cause irrational or hurtful behavior. Anger in the hands of one with weapons of war can become a bad thing. The good doctor wanted me to speak to you to get a sense of where you might direct any anger... whether outwards at someone else, or inwards in self-destructive ways."

"You sound like a shrink. I don't do shrinks."

"I understand. I think that may be why Doc Harrington asked for me, I'm not a 'shrink' in any manner of the term. I do listen to people, though, and I want you to know that you are a valuable person, even if your grief tells you that you aren't."

"This doesn't make sense. Why are you here at four in the morning to tell me this?"

"Because the doctor's message arrived at our door at one-forty-five and I couldn't walk faster."

"You walked?"

"Yup. Maybe Brother Patrick never told you, but we prefer to maintain simplicity in keeping our vows. Part of how that simplicity works out is that we walk when we travel locally."

"But it's dark out."

"So? The stars are out and the risen moon has a day more than a quarter. Lots of light to walk the road by and no real reason to fear.

"Wow." I remember the first time I heard Brother Patrick talk about walking everywhere, I thought he was certifiable... but neither he nor the man now in front of me seem crazy.

He looks at me from under rather bushy gray brows, not seeming to care what I think of his homespun getup or the dust the walk has added to his boots. He speaks again, "Look, Shawn, I suspect you would rather return to the winding path." He is quite correct, though I wonder just how obvious I'm being in spite of trying to be polite. His eyes are steady and his tone understanding when he asks, "Shawn, are you at risk of hurting yourself?"

I chuckle, "Nah, there are plenty of other folks who would be glad to do the honors." I see something of a concerned expression and continue, "I'm still a fighter, I don't give up quite so easily."

He nods again, "Good. I'll trust your word on that. Any idea when you are to be released?"

"Well..." I try to draw out the answer, wondering if I've lost some reason not to trust him. In the end, I really don't remember any, "Tomorrow or the next day."

"Fine, we'll set the wake for the day after you are out."

"Thanks."

…..

"OWWWW!" I'm being tortured by a contraption strapped to my head. It seems to have been designed to make my skull implode, and the headache I'm developing makes me wonder if it isn't working.

A white coated tech does something and the pressure eases a bit. She stands, walks to my side, and loosens the straps that bind it to me.

"Got what you needed?" I ask in what can only be described as a most weary tone of voice.

"I think we got a good threshold, but your doctor will have to determine what it means for someone your age."

I keep forgetting that I'm not a youngster anymore; it's a good thing all these kids keep reminding me. Not.

…..

"I think you can be released, but the Alvaine test still shows too much deformation for me to believe the fibrocartilage callus at the fracture site is quite stable enough yet," Doc Harrington states with the apparent presumption that I understand what he's talking about.

"What was that again... um... and could you try plain English for the sake of one who is a bit less proficient in Doctorese?"

He laughs, "I think your test results show that your skull at the fracture site is still not hardened enough to try space or even high gravity atmospheric flight."

"Okay, that I understand."

Still chuckling, he replies, "Good. I want to release you this afternoon with instructions to come back in one week from today for us to check that again. Sound reasonable?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Oh, your room is mobbed again."

I look at the glas wall and he displays the scene for me. Lanai is seated by my bed reading something on her glas. Agent Ellison is pacing along one wall with one of the Advocacy's uniformed gorillas looking at her as she passes back and forth. Associate Erica Vas is sitting almost opposite Lanai with her eyes either closed of nearly so. Finally, Athas Mgren and Dnong Ksack stand against the remaining wall, the Seer seeming to watch everything while the diplomat is pretty much just watching the door. Since the Marines were reassigned yesterday, I at least have no one else pondering what to do with or to me.

"Got a back way out?" I joke.

He laughs again while shaking his head, "No."

…..

Every head turns as I round the corner and step past the chair Erica occupies.

Doctor Harrington is right on my heels, starting out by announcing, "Okay, assembled interested persons: it is my professional opinion that Mr. Ryan can be released this afternoon as long as he is not going to fly into space or do any high performance flight maneuvers. I would also advise against getting into fights with roving gangs of hooligans, but there are limits to what a doctor can expect out of his patient."

Before anyone can comment, I say, "I'm going to head over to the plantation and try to figure out what needs to be done there. Those of you who insist on following are of course welcome to do so."

Lanai's eyes seem to light on Agent Ellison and her companion. I don't think she trusts them.

Dnong steps from the wall and imitates a Xi'An smile, though with a huge dose of hardness in his eyes... I have to wonder why he is enjoying himself. "I am only here to make an announcement, one that the diplomatic corps will be formally passing on to your government."

"Then why tell us early?" I rather interrupt, not really trusting his intent, but rather sure it has to do with a formal protest that I wasn't released to them.

"Because I believe you and your associates at MARC will find the news... stimulating."

I sense more than see Erica sit forward to my right and Lanai is giving him her undivided attention.

Dnong is obviously enjoying himself too much, pausing for dramatic effect. He makes a deliberate show of looking at everyone around the room, with his eyes finally resting on Lanai. "On my orders," he resumes, "Jenk Gallen has been arrested for espionage."

Lanai's expression doesn't change.

There is, however, a very significant response from someone else in the room: Agent Ellison. "NO!" she screams.

Dnong's head comes around to look at her with an expression as near to confusion as I've ever seen him exhibit. "I received confirmation just a few hours ago." He glances at me and Lanai, then his gaze returns to the Agent.

I too look her way, suddenly realizing that something must be very wrong... she looks infuriated. "You will order his immediate release, slink," she says clearly but with a huge weight of venom dripping from every word. Behind her, the uniform seems poised to clear his weapon.

It occurs to me that there are now likely no more than three armed people in the room: The two of them and maybe Erica Vas.

Glancing back, I see that Dnong has his inscrutable Xi'An face on, seeming suddenly calm and unperturbed. He glances quickly at me and the back at the Agent. "Ith asas (I was wrong)," he quietly hisses and I see Athas Mgren nod just enough to recognize it.

"What was that?!" Ellison barks.

I look back to see that her goon has indeed cleared his weapon, holding it in the professionally casual manner that the experienced often adopt before using it.

"I will not rescind the order. The evidence has been passed on to the Emperor's High Council and the matter is no longer in my hands."

She is livid. Her lip curls just a bit and she looks about to speak... suddenly, her focus shifts and she is looking directly at me.

"YOU!" she screams. "You ruined EVERYTHING! If you had just died when you were supposed to this wouldn't have happened!" Her sidearm is effortlessly cleared and the uniform is obviously now covering the room.

Out of a corner of my eye, I see Erica move as if to rise, but Goon shifts his weapon to target her and she sinks back down.

"Close and lock the door, Doctor." Ellison orders and I hear the click of the latch behind me.

Lanai is the only person I can see who seems relaxed, and now she chooses to speak up, "You do know that you are unlikely to leave the planet alive now that you have shown your true colors."

"Not if I don't leave any of you alive."

"There is a camera in the ceiling above the door sill, our people have the feed and will refer it to those who will need it."

"I am a patriot, no one will stop me."

"Suit yourself," Lanai smiles at her as comfortably as if she had just told her that she liked her outfit.

At about the same moment, several things happen. The Advocacy Agent looks over at Lanai, her companion glances the same way, too. Erica suddenly has a weapon clearing, Dnong shoves Athas Mgren into the corner somewhat behind me and leaps to interpose the bed between himself and the Agents.

A laser flashes and a gunshot rings out in the same heartbeat, and both uniform and Erica seem to have fired. Ellison pivots and her weapon raises to fire at me, but Lanai leaps like a somal (aka., Terran Jaguar), covering the gap of nearly two meters before the Agent can get her round off. Uniform is slumping to the floor, a hole in his forehead spewing red with his dying heartbeats.

From under the bed another laser reaches out, slicing Lanai's arm as she spins around Ellison. She rather grunts in pain, the bright red slice crippling her as the Agent wrestles her weapon clear and tries again to point it my way. Dnong fires a second time from his hidden position and there is one fewer Advocacy Agent to trouble this world.

Behind me, Doc Harrington is calling into the hallway, "Two crashcarts! Stat!"

Dnong rushes to Lanai and is applying pressure to her wound.

I squat down to Erica's side and see her last recognition and a faint smile. Her chest is covered with blood and I realize that the back of the chair has exploded outwards.

"You did good, Associate," I breathe and think for a moment that she appreciates this... then her eyes close.

…..

Chaos. The swarm of yammering officials and intensely active medical folks all swirling around like smoke over a battlefield is enough to drive one insane in short order.

It has been two hours since my room became a combat zone, now I'm sitting in some large waiting area having a short break before the next questioning from whomever begins.

Lanai has had her arm sewn shut and seems otherwise none the worse for wear. She is seated across the room from me; she's being grilled by someone from the High Advocate's office, smiling and seemingly taking it all in stride.

Athas Mgren is still seated to one side, maybe three meters away; she has said that she is here representing the Emperor's interest in my wellbeing and is sticking to that assignment.

Dnong Ksack is... hmmm, well, I don't know where he has gotten himself to. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since Doc Harrington and a nurse took over caring for Lanai.

Somehow, in the midst of all the shiny synths and white hospital garb, formal tunics and utilitarian flight-gear, there is a simple robe covering a figure who has at least my years behind him. Brother Colum has arrived and while most of the official types seem oblivious of his presence, I note that a goodly number of the locals either greet him personally or are at least courteous to him. Right now he is talking with the nurse who tended to Lanai, a young woman of maybe twenty who seems very shaken by her experience with the wounded and the dead. Were I to bet, by the time he leaves her, she will feel more at ease with what she has dealt with today.

…..

"You sure are trouble," a very familiar voice says from behind.

"Why thank you, Gloria."

"You are welcome, of course. Rather seems like you are a trouble magnet, pulling even Advocacy turncoats out of the woodwork."

"Yeah, it has to be my personality," I smirk and she laughs. I notice that Lanai looks up from her side of the room and I add, "That young woman helped save a lot of lives today, mine included."

"I'll make sure she is properly punished for that mistake," Gloria retorts with a mischievous grin.

"Thank you. Thank you very much," I fire back, adding a raspberry to punctuate my reply.

"I'm rather impressed. Her reports indicate you haven't made a pass at her."

"If she would be interested without MARC, I would..." I sigh and Gloria is studying me again. "... But she is bright, competent, confident, and on a ten scale she is a twelve. I don't think anything that could happen would be real... and honestly, I rather have a friend that I can trust than a lover who might not be what I imagine."

"Very reasonable. Regretting Xin?"

"Maybe a little. Trying to be myself."

"Losing your friends hurts, doesn't it?"

"When I let myself think about it."

"You seem pretty somber right now."

"Sorry, I'm doing the best I can."

"I bet." She pauses and I watch as those in the room continue their conversations. Finally, Gloria continues, "Have you been back to the plantation?"

"No, meant to go this afternoon, but..." I gesture at the room before me, "... Something came up."

Gloria looks back my way, "You are still in danger. Tish is calling in a lot of markers to get you. He may already know about Gallen, but it feels to me like this is more personal now... he does not seem to take multiple failures very well."

"Great, maybe I just need to fly out to orbit, drop my shields, and announce my presence."

"Don't be an ass, Shawn. If your ships are working, I suggest you find a place to lie low. I bet the Diplomat there would be able to get you somewhere that will be out of sight if not out of mind."

"Can't do space for a week. My skull could make my helmet into a real brain bucket."

"Well... find a place. Go off grid somewhere. This Gallen thing is likely to explode on its own, and there are those who won't be very understanding of you as an Imperial contractor."

I nod, but say nothing. Lanai seems to be finished with her interview and is walking towards us.

"Ma'am," Lanai says with a slight bow.

"Need a lift?" Gloria asks and it occurs to me that she wasn't here to talk to me at all.

Lanai frowns, glances at me, and looks back at the bald Reporter. "May I ask why?"

"You may, but I'll not answer here. Don't worry, the old bat already stood up for you and the Librarian isn't disappointed."

"Hey," I object, "If you're going to butcher it, at least use 'Goat' instead of 'Bat'... that way it is still TOG: The Old Goat."

They both smile and laugh. Lanai, looks back at Gloria and quietly says, "Lead on."

Gloria smiles my way, "Remember what I said."

I nod and rise.

As Lanai passes me she adds, "Take care, you kindly old goat."

"You too, oh dream weaver."

"What does that mean?" She asks, suddenly stopped.

"It means I'll see you in my dreams."

I think she is blushing just a little as she answers, "Good. You deserve something nice."

…..

"Wow, those sure got messed up." The speaker is a tallish man with an Earth accent walking towards me from a recently landed Aurora. I note that said craft has a Premera Insurance logo on the side.

I'm recently arrived at the hangar that once stood beside the plantation's beautiful Big House. In front of me are the damaged remains of the 315 and the mostly intact 350. The latter appears to have benefited from the presence of the former; the 315 seems to have taken most of the flying debris impacts, ripping off the nose, shredding all the starboard wing, and pushing the craft so hard that the landing gear bent sideways to lay the fuselage on the pavement. In contrast, there is one place on the 350 where a section of steel beam flew through part of the aft cargo space, otherwise there are just numerous dings in the starboard armor from the array of nuts, bolts, rocks, concrete pieces, and even sheet metal that now lays on the paving beneath.

"Yeah," I respond. "The blast rather did a little damage."

"First one of these where I get to see the whole bird on the ground. Quite the cleanup," he chuckles then he gets down to business, "Are you Shawn Ryan?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Should I ask what happened?"

I point at the house, "Someone dropped a bomb on the house. Haven't caught up with him or her yet, but if they survive I'll be glad to refer them to your legal department."

He laughs, "Yeah, well, if they survive." The smile fades again and, as he gestures at the damaged craft, he continues, "Mind if I take a look at them for the claims?"

"Go right ahead. The property guy is due any time."

"No problem, this shouldn't take long. Any security on the 350?"

"Not unless you try to take the seat. I can get that if you need to try to start systems up."

"I might, need to see if that nasty puncture hit any of your controls or avionics. Frame can be repaired and most of the non-flight, too, but the number of repeat and escalated claims on avionics and controls may make it easier to just replace it and have the factory refurb it for resale."

"Whatever works."

"Thanks." He walks off to wander around the demolished 315.

I walk around the hangar towards the back of the 350... and my eyes fall on a spot on the wall that is still discolored. That is where they found me, crumpled against the cold hardness, bleeding enough that I might not have made it if first responders hadn't gotten to me for another twenty minutes or so. The mess is total, even if things are still somewhat where they should be. I'm rather overwhelmed, I don't even know where to start to return some form of order.

A frustrated hummingbird zips up fairly near my head, his sapphire blue gorget flashing even here in the relative shade. He hovers there making several annoyed sounds, suddenly zipping off. I guess the feeders that hang around the property are all empty now. Looking around, I confirm that the one about twenty meters away near the hangar doors is indeed drained. Maybe that is something I can do that will serve as a start towards getting this cleaned up: feed the hummingbirds.

I walk back out of the hangar and up onto the remains of the patio. I think I headed this way to mix sugar and water in the big pitcher I always use... I've done this hundreds of times. Thing is, there is no kitchen left to go to. I finally confront the immensity of the disaster: my home and those I cared about who lived here are gone.

The force of the blast left only a section of cracked foundation and the twisted ends of some of the water pipes, everything else is gone. I could have taken a child's toy house and run it over with a tractor and not done as complete a job of destruction... the ground is wiped clean.

I am emotionless. I know the facts, but I've somehow blocked off the pain. All I'm aware of is a huge sense that this just isn't fair. How could this happen? What could I have done differently? Is this all just a farcical dream that I need to wake up from? I'd trade my ships to have this all be just an exceptionally bad nightmare. Somehow this is worse than waking up in that horrid RRS compound to spend another day working the solid waste ponds.

…..

This has been a rough couple of days... okay, that isn't fair... a rough couple of months. I'm rather drained right now, sitting in the big chair on the inoperable 350, wondering what's next and not really knowing if I'm really ready for it.

After spending some of the afternoon finding sugar and water to feed the hummingbirds, I got to deal with an argumentative insurance agent over the property and what was there. That was sure a lot of fun... not.

I look down at the glas I've been using to access the plantation's accounts; I'm having to put a lot back into it from my own slim set of credits. I've made sure to pay my workers for continuing the second flush harvest, hand rolling the orange pekoe, and then moving it to the drying shed. The job is labor intensive, but it makes a fine black tea; if my plantation is known for anything, it is the quality of the teas I produce and my second flush black is even shipped to Earth.

I shut down the bank link and stare out the window in front of me. Dusk has fallen and all but the last warm sunset light has faded. I wonder what is next.

…..

Morning seems brighter. I'm rather stiff from sleeping in the pilot's seat; seems I never moved after doing the banking. Still, light is streaming in and I'm rather ready to get out and about.

I walk to the edge of the landing pad and out onto the slightly overgrown lawn. Before me lies the whole of my plantation; it almost flows down the hill, the rows following the contours and every plant flat-topped at just the right height to allow all but the shortest pickers to reach across the plants.

There are already white-garbed people moving about among the acres of tea leaves: pickers plucking the second growth of the season, their baskets filling with the white-haired top bud and the emerald second leaf. The process is so simple, any gardener would recognize it, but it is hard work that I have always insisted on paying fairly for.

I recognize John's hat maybe a hundred and fifty meters down the hill. He used to fill in for Arron when he and Camilla were away... maybe I need to talk with him about taking over as manager.

"Excuse me?" a man behind me says abruptly and I pivot to face a rather weasel faced person of about thirty. He continues, "I'm looking for Mister Ryan, is he here today?"

"I'm Shawn Ryan," I reply, wondering who this newcomer is.

"Ah, I'm probably looking for your son, the owner."

He's not exactly getting on my better side, "I am the owner."

"Well, part owner, anyway," he retorts while a rather evil look comes into his eyes. "I'm Dubban Mox of Henson, Simms, Dubber, and Mox, we represent the estate of the late Camilla Rosa. It appears that she died without a will and I'm here at the request of her heirs to determine the property's value and marketability prior to disposal of her assets."

"I'll buy it back for what she paid for her share of it."

"Oh, well, that will not be enough. There are bids on the line already to turn this area into a... well, you needn't worry, we will address that later."

"I'm still a primary owner, we can discuss any attempt to force me to sell this to anyone right now."

"Liquidating assets is probably not your strong suit, sir. Someone of your age is likely not really able to manage a property such as this on your own anyway. Don't worry, you will be able to find a nice retirement spot with your share of the proceeds," he smirks.

I begin to wonder if I can get the 350's weapons online fairly quickly. My response is starting to take on the cold tone of one trying to control his anger, "On the contrary, I think you will find that I can do a fairly good job of taking care of my own. Besides, in this county, I'm already well known and I employ enough people that your little project of kicking me off my land will run into some serious opposition."

He chuckles and the evil look grows meaner, "You will have serious problems if you think you can fight Henson, Simms, Dubber, and Mox. We are major contributors to the sitting Terran Senators' campaigns and most of the planetary legislature as well." His pronouncement is meant to sound triumphant.

"So you are challenging me to match influence with influence?"

His smile is vile, "You would have to have very powerful friends to match us."

I think about my intelligence contacts and smile back... perhaps not as evilly, but enough that he blanches for a moment before starting to look cautious. "Of course, if you have sufficient resources to match their offers, we might be able to come to some accommodation."

"Perhaps I can offer you a chance to make more deals in the future."

"Like what?"

"Like living long enough as a free man to make deals."

He looks offended but also a bit startled. "Are you threatening me, sir?"

"No. Just observing that there is a reason that you are here, isn't there?"

"Yes, representing the estate of the late Camilla Ro..."

"The operative word," I interrupt, "That you might take note of is 'late', isn't it?"

If Mr. Mox could get any paler, he just did. He looks at me with a bit of shock.

"Dubban... may I call you Dubban?" I don't wait for his answer, "The people who tried to kill me and got Camilla and two others are probably already aware that this conversation is taking place. If I let it be known that I'm doing some quiet business with one Dubban Mox of Henson, Simms, Dubber, and Mox, do you have any idea what that might mean to your health... or your family's?"

Now the term ashen applies to his face as the blood all appears to drain away.

"I seriously doubt that they will believe you as they torture you and yours for information that you will obviously not have... but that I can make seem pretty obvious that you do."

"You wouldn't do..."

"Care to see the hole in the ground that used to be our Big House? My enemies are not trivial and they don't play around. Of course, neither do my friends," I add, letting the implied magnitude settle in.

He looks towards the patio and the damaged foundation visible beyond. Almost quietly enough that I don't hear him, he finally responds, "Perhaps we can come to some kind of accommodation, Mr. Ryan."

With some amount of condescension in my tone I reply, "I think that is a more healthy attitude, Mr. Mox."

"We will be in contact, Mr. Ryan."

"Please don't dawdle, Mr. Mox. I would hate to have to conclude that you have changed your mind again... it might set things in motion that could catch up those who are innocent."

He looks at me and I see genuine fear. "I will get right on finding a solution that you will be able to agree to. Please give me a week or two, it won't be longer, I promise."

"If you keep it that short, I will try to be patient."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Ryan," he chokes out before scurrying off. His body language reminds me of nothing so much as a dog with its tail between its legs.

…..

"I don't know, sir," John Saban says with a suddenly furrowed brow. "I'll need to talk with the wife about it, but I suspect she won't want that much responsibility."

I've just asked John about taking Arron's place and honestly I had expected him to jump at it. "Um... okay, I... well, I thought you liked it when you stood in for Arron when they were away."

"I did. But the things Camilla did were the heart of running the place." I would swear there is a weariness as he says this. Continuing, he admits, "I sure don't want to do that stuff and I doubt the missus will want to either. I can stand in for the field work and processing, but not any of that other stuff."

As I consider his words, I have to admit I had it pretty good with Camilla pretty much running the operation and managing the books. "Well, I might hit you up for that and just get someone separate in for the business side of things."

"If you get someone, I'll consider the hands-on stuff..." he pauses, then continues, "But I'm not taking it until you have someone, I'm not fool enough to take the nasty stuff on by default while waiting for someone who never comes."

"Fair enough. I'll talk with the coop to see if anyone there would want to come down and join us."

"You might want to rebuild the Big House first."

"Good point, don't want them thinking they are sleeping in the drying shed."

"Yup."

Coming up the hill is the brown robed figure of one of the Brothers.

"Brother Brian," John says, while nodding more than bowing in acknowledgment.

"Hello, John. How are you and yours?"

"Well, Brother, quite well. If you'll excuse me, though, I need to get back to work."

Brother Brian... well I don't know the man, but I presume that's his name... nods in John's direction and then faces me. "Shawn Ryan, I presume."

"Guilty as charged. I would guess you are from Colum... er, Brother Colum's um..." The term I'm mentally searching for evades me like a sound evades the fingers.

It would appear, however, that he's pretty good at guessing, "Priory. And yes, I am."

"Yeah, priory, that's it. So, how may I help you, sir?"

"Well, we have the wake scheduled for tonight. Brother Colum asks that you be at the priory by 1600 for a quick tour and explanation of the festivities."

"Sure, no problem. Is there a pad on the grounds? Oh, and what is the homing frequency?"

He laughs, "Nearest landing pad is next to the market; it's maybe three hundred meters away. We don't have anything like a beacon. Just head to Weymouth and you can't miss the Priory, it's the only grouping of multi-story stone buildings anywhere about."

"Fair enough. Sure, I'll be there."

"Thank you, I will relay your acceptance to Brother Colum."

"Thanks for letting me know about it."

He smiles warmly and replies, "The pleasure is mine, sir. Good day." Turning, he makes his way back down the hill, greeting other workers as he goes. It occurs to me that he is walking back, just like Brother Patrick used to...

Brother Patrick. He was just there to help. I look at the hole where the house used to be and something in me cries out in agony. Three innocent people. I think for a moment about those children's tales... are there such things as ghosts? I've seen pretty strange things in my life, it really wouldn't surprise me if there were spirits abroad among us. Now I have to wonder if the three of them are standing here right now, glaring at me in their misery or their anger at being victims of my presence in their lives.

I feel really lonely all of a sudden.

…..

I guess I didn't need to know about a landing pad, I don't have a working ship right now, go figure. One thing about it, I bet there won't be any attempt on my life while I'm taking public transit.

The ground transport here is called a 'bus'... I've got no clue where that name came from. It is a combo, hover capable but using wheels to maneuver in town. This afternoon the narrow space that is something like an individual monorail car is filled with what I can only presume are working folks. I suspect most of them are on their way home, the condition of their clothes implies a lot of labor earlier in the day. Two pickers from the plantation are sitting towards the back chatting happily with several other passengers, but I am otherwise unfamiliar with the individuals who surround me.

The trip isn't taking all that long to cover the eleven kilometers, but it might as well be to another planet... I don't think I've seen actual 'countryside' like this since I left home to board that Covalex scow for my trip into the deep black of space. I realize that I usually fly everywhere, on-world as well as off... and it occurs to me that I might have missed a lot of beauty because of my hurry. The most striking thing is that trees look different from down here. Sure, I know what trees look like and all, but looking out the window through the mottled light that seems to change as we move by is almost more alien than the terraformers at Hadur III were.

I seem entranced by the sights and find myself glad for the distraction.

…..

Four long blocks from the transport stop is the enclosure for the Priory. A stone wall, maybe three meters tall, surrounds buildings that are indeed the tallest around, each reflecting fine stonework and careful attention to detail. There is even one tallish tower shaped structure that I was able to see even before I left the bus; as I get closer, it becomes obvious that it is rounded, with no flat sides... kinda like a tube with a cone roof on it.

I'm struck that this priory feels both old and permanent. Sure, there are a lot of places on Terra that are several hundred standards old, but this feels more like something from Earth that had stood for millennia.

…..

A robed person is waiting at the gate, his purpose immediately understood as he asks, "Here for the wake?"

"Yes, I'm Shawn Ryan."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Ryan. Brother Colum is expecting you. He wishes you to meet him in the scriptorium..." he apparently sees the confused look and tries something different, "The library..." and finally he resorts to pointing, "That building across the way, next to the dormitory."

"Ah, thanks."

I check my mobi to see if I'm on time, only to realize that it is inoperative.

The gatekeeper smiles and says calmly, "Sorry, but those don't work within the walls."

"Why?"

He shrugs and repeats himself, "They just don't. It reduces temptation, I guess."

I'm obviously puzzled.

"You could ask the Prior when you see him."

"Who is that?"

He laughs, "Brother Colum is our Prior."

"Oh."

…..

I walk around a smallish courtyard in a kind of colonnaded walkway. All the structures about me are stone, but the courtyard itself is verdant with plants and color. Birds seem to be chattering all around and I even spy a hummingbird darting around near a couple of feeders. There is one robed figure working around some bushes, kneeling as he prunes or shapes them.

I see no one else as I walk my way to the open doors of what turns out to be a simply appointed hall with actual books on shelves that line the walls and various desks as well. In a corner, sitting on the well worn wooden floor and attending to an open volume is Brother Colum himself.

…..

"So, have any questions?" Brother Colum asks as we finish a quick tour around the priory.

"Yeah, why are the mobiglas inop here?"

He chuckles, something I realize he has done a lot since I showed up. "Please understand, this is a place of contemplation and retreat. We are part of an ancient traditional form of Christian Monasticism, the Franciscans. We strive to live simply and those devices that plagued most of our members' days before they came to us are each and every one a nexus of complications."

"Ain't that the truth," I comment.

Smiling, he continues, "Historically, our Abbots were neutral about such devices until the ascension of the second Messer. We suddenly got an influx of former security types who wanted nothing to do with the regime and came to us to find moral balance. They brought with them technology that effectively hid their presence from their former associates by blocking all signals within a small area. The Abbot of Iona at the time, Brother Finn, discovered their use and realized that further removing the Abbey and all his priories from ready device searches would benefit all the brothers, allowing greater immersion in our tasks and devotions. This priory has been communications device free for hundreds of standards, with thousands of the small transmitters installed all around."

"Kinda overkill, isn't it?"

"I was a OES operative until I was forty. Brother Patrick, your late friend, was a Naval Corpsman with the Marines. I have several others here who might also wish limitations on their past ever intruding into their new life. Do you not see that what annoys you is easily corrected; you simply walk back out the gate. The danger to my brothers would be much greater if the fact that you must leave to use your toy influenced me to remove the fields."

I shrug, "Yeah, I guess it's your party."

Fairly near at hand, some lively music is starting up.

"Speaking of parties," the Prior says, "We have a wake to attend. Will you follow me, Shawn?"

"Lead on."

…..

I collapse exhausted into a chair, watching the dancing folk as they let the instruments drive their bodies. The driving force is apparently called 'traditional Irish music' and it is played on non-electrified instruments of all sorts.

There are stringed things played with fingers and others with a saw-like thing that I think is called a 'bowl'. There are different types of things people seem to blow into, and one multi-legged contraption with what looks like a bellows under the fellow's arm that sounds like a cross between a braying donkey backing a distant memory of a dream. There are drums and other things I've never seen before, in all the players seem almost welded together as they make the music with spirit and often sweaty endurance.

I look towards the dais where holos of the three stand as if they were here with us. Well, I guess they actually aren't holographs as such, they appear to be printed onto some kind of metallic material. Whatever they are, Camilla looks so serene in her image... I bet it was made from a wedding holo, she has that kind of sparkle. Arron, too, looks like he has just achieved something grand... or at least something that was grand to him. Brother Patrick is merely standing, looking peacefully at the viewer. The pictures almost make them seem present... only the empty place they once had in my heart reminds me that this wake thing seems so odd. These people are celebrating. I guess if I look at it that I'm celebrating that I got to know them and have years of relationship with them...

I feel really tired. I miss them, even Brother Patrick whom I hardly knew. Life goes on. Well... except for the three of them. I guess if these Brothers are right, maybe even they are going on in more than my memory. I think I'll pass on trying to find out any sooner than I have to.


	16. Chapter 15 – Decisions, Decisions

The bus ride home is far less enjoyable since it's dark outside. Within the vehicle's confines, everyone seems focused on their mobis; kids play games on them while the adults read news, look for whatever, or watch vid feeds. Of course, there are also several people talking with unseen characters while doing whatever.

I seem uninterested in my own device and don't look at it. It has been a long time since I've watched people this way, though one mother type does look askance at me when she detects that I've let my gaze rest a moment on her daughter as she plays something.

Finally, the eleven kilometers is covered and the operator opens a portal for me to exit through. The night is cool and the Great Banner dominates the heavens. Nearby, some small creature rustles fallen leaves and there is a merry peeping of frogs way off to my left. The gravel path to my hangar crunches underfoot with each step sounding like a landslide. There are no lights on and I decide at the last moment to walk out to sit on a bench at the edge of the old patio. It is fabri-stone and hard as concrete, but I find it comforting to lay stretched out on it looking up at the billion points of fire floating in the black void.

A gentle breeze stirs and kisses my cheek. A night bird mournfully addresses the sky from somewhere downhill. A wisp of cloud drifts across the glowing darkness. I'm sleepy and for a moment content.

…..

I am pouring sugar water into the hummingbird feeder on the porch by my room. The place is black and white except for sapphire curtains rustling in a light breeze and a red rose in a vase on the porch table. The sound of a hummer zips behind me and I smile. Not wanting to scare the little thing, I finish pouring. The sound is louder, bigger. I turn and there is a huge male hummingbird, iridescent in the morning sun, gorget extended in display. This bird is bigger than my head and seems to be growing as I watch. It reaches out its tongue and drinks from the feeder, then hovers looking directly at me. The tongue lashes out and kisses my cheek seven times. The buzz of its wings increases and it is now half as large as I am. Two more birds the same size fly up, one another hummingbird and the other a Black-capped Chickadee. The second hummer likewise drinks and then kisses me, then the two hummers fly off towards an emerald treetop. The chickadee lands at my feet, but it is now almost as big as I am.

"Pheee-Beee!" the bird announces, that is the male territorial call. The sound is so loud that it feels like a drum on my chest. Again, it calls "Pheee-Beee!"

I hold out my empty hand and there is a sunflower seed in it. I know the seed wasn't there, but it is now. The bird reaches down and takes it, then hops to the edge of the porch to devour the kernel. Moments later, it is back in front of me and again I have one sunflower seed to give it. It cocks its head as if to study me...

…..

"Mr. Ryan?" filters through the dream remnants along with a gentle shaking that tells me someone real wants my attention. The vividness of my unconscious experience clings to my awareness and I half expect to see a giant chickadee perched beside me as my eyes open and I look about. I do see John and an otherwise beautiful morning in the sky above, but nothing approximating the figures so real mere moments before.

Straining to clear my head, I nevertheless answer, "Yes, John?"

"Mr. Ryan, I spoke with the wife and I was right: she wants nothin' to do with runnin' the place now that Camilla and Arron are gone. She's worried that I'm up here at all, but I told her that I'm still workin' here anyway."

"You are a good man, John. Thanks."

"So you gonna get us another manager soon or you stayin' this time?"

"I'll find a manager, John. I'll get on it today."

"Good. Thank you, sir."

"Good morning, John."

"Good morning, Mr. Ryan."

…..

"Agri-temp New Austin Office. My name is Marcie, how may I help you today?" The vid of the speaker on my mobi appears shows a girl too young and perky to be the right person to address the need personally.

"Yes, Ma'am, My name is Shawn Ryan and I'm in need of a temp manager for my tea plantation."

"Perfect, I can refer you to one of our position specialists. Will you hold for a minute?"

I'm about to reply when the most obnoxious sounds come over the signal, easily twice as loud as Marcie had been and sounding like something I once heard in a bar on Spider. I shudder at even the memory and turn the sound down.

Thunderheads seem to be rising out to my west, warm moist air from the unseen sea is rising into our uplands to bring the seasonal rains. I wonder if we will get a bigger one today and...

"Hello?" I hear faintly and realize that someone on my mobi is all but shouting to be heard.

I turn up the volume and answer, "Hello, sorry, had to turn the glas down because of the noise you had on while I held."

"Oh... well, I'm sorry that you didn't approve, that was the Bongo Beast Boys with their current hit stream 'Maniacal'." The woman speaking is probably not much older than Marcie was... I'm starting to feel like a fossil next to these kids.

"No offense," I snipe, "But you can drown whatever in a stream and maybe just give silence while we wait."

She sighs, "I'm sorry. My name is Terry. Marcie said you are looking for a plantation manager? What kind of plantation would that be?"

"Tea."

"T what?"

"Tea, as in the plants that make the drink."

"What drink?"

"Tea."

"Just a moment," I can see her look another direction and it occurs to me that she is looking up what I'm talking about. "Oh, I see. I'm sure we can find someone to assist you. That would be something like coffee, right?"

"Only distantly."

"It says here... oh. Never mind. Yes, we can find someone, how long do you need them for?"

"Several months at least, maybe turning into something permanent."

"I see. What kind of quarters are we looking at?"

I look at the hole in the ground where the Big House used to stand and answer, "I'm going to have to bring in something temporary while we rebuild."

"Is this a new position or just newly available?"

"We are established, just need to replace my last managers."

"Why, what happened?"

I wonder how to answer this delicately, but can't think of anything before my mouth answers, "They were blown up."

She is shocked, "Excuse me?"

Well, I started down this road, might as well continue, "Someone tried to assassinate me and bombed the house."

The girl is speechless. She just stares. Finally, "Did they catch them?"

"No, not yet."

"Um, let me check with my manager."

"Just don't put tha..."

She is gone and that screeching noise is back again, even louder than before. It ends suddenly and I realize I have been disconnected. Great, at least I don't have to wish injury on whatever it was that made that din.

…..

Not having much luck today with temp agencies, I have just had the fourth one tell me 'no' after hearing that my previous couple perished in the line of duty. At least that one didn't hang up on me like two of the three others did.

The roar of thrusters arresting a power descent fills the air to the east and after just a few moments, a UEEN Super Hornet is rushing through the turquoise sky. If it is here to kill me, I won't stand a chance.

I shield my eyes from the blast wash as it settles on my pad, noticing even so that it is turned to face me. The engines wind down and the gale subsides. That looks like a serious craft, there are numerous scorch marks only barely hidden under paint and polish. The onboard ladder extends and the canopy slides open, allowing an officer to dismount from his steed.

He takes a moment to extract a bag from a compartment and stow his helmet, then walks straight at me.

"Shawn Ryan?"

"May I ask who is looking."

"Captain Priest, Josiah Priest. I know you are Ryan, your mobi gives you away."

"I might have killed him and stolen it."

"You didn't and we both know that."

He has approached close enough that I rise and we shake hands.

"Okay, may I ask what an Navy Captain is doing coming to see me?"

"Let me ask you a question, first."

"Okay, I might not answer it, but you can ask."

He laughs briefly, then still smiling says, "That works. Do you recognize this man?"

He holds his mobiglas turned around so I can see the image perfectly. The face is familiar, but I can't quite remember from where. "Not sure. I think I've seen him, but can't remember where. Is this a test?"

"No," he chuckles, "You might like to know that he flies a 350r."

Now the image strikes the right brain cells and I recognize the face of the man that tried to kill me on the Valinor station at Hadur III. "Yeah, that pile of... stuff... tried to kill me..."

"By decompressing a station docking ring while you might have been in the uncontrolled area."

"Yeah. You know him?"

The officer pulls out one of those thin gloves that surgeons wear and opens his bag. Lifting whatever, he replies, "Yeah, I did."

He pulls a severed human head out of the bag holding it by the hair. I about drop of a heart attack in surprise, but that is clearly the man I once argued with in that VAS stanchion.

"Who was he?"

"Doesn't matter now, but he seems to have taken a second pass at you," here he nods towards where the barren foundation pieces are, "And only narrowly missed."

Somehow I know I should feel rage at the person, but the fact that he is now past tense takes a bit out of my response.

"Should I ask why he is in this condition?"

"Probably not."

"May I ask why you bring this to me now?"

"We have intel that you may know things we need to know. I've also heard that you don't seem as cooperative with harassment as you are with courtesy."

"That is true."

He drops the head back into the bag and holds it out, "If you want it, he's yours."

"Burn it."

"No problem."

"Can we find a place to sit down?" The officer asks.

I nod and lead the way to a couple of still functional chairs in the hangar. "Well, Captain, how may I assist you?"

"You have been..."

Another loud racket of braking thrusters drowns his words and we are both looking towards the open hangar doors. There is a requisite dust storm as first a quad of Xi'An landing pads and then an actual Dor'Qual cargo ship settles on the pad next to the Super Hornet.

"Expecting company?" He quips, but I note the Captain is standing and may have shifted to make his weapon hand more free to move.

"No, but then again, I'm on their payroll."

He glances my way and then back at the settling craft. I wonder about the tensions I suspect there will be between the Navy officer and whomever the Xi'An have sent.

As the gusts of debris subside, I recognize my M50 strapped to one of the cargo hooks. That hook seems to be lowering the ship even before the passenger staircase can extend. Kree'Gna appears and starts down the incline just as another roar fills the air.

Now that one sounds familiar, and I'm right... a Origen 350r has flown up and seems to be looking for enough room to set down.

"Were you expecting company?" Colonel Priest asks again.

"No. I'm just a nexus for trouble today, aren't I?"

There is a flicker of a grin on his face as he again faces the pad. "Imperator's Office. I think you are about to be pretty popular."

The 350 seems to have decided to try my patio, it pivots that way and shouldn't have any trouble with the pavement there.

Kree'Gna strides towards me and I'm worried that he seems grim.

I rise and offer a modest bow, "Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

I see his expression change to a smile, albeit a subdued one, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Kree'Gna, this is Captain Priest. Captain, this is my friend Kree'Gna, a Diplomat of the Xi'An Empire; I am his contracted wing pilot..." glancing Kree'Gna's way I add, "Or was that last time I knew."

The two eye the other with suspicion, I'm not sure how to deal with the tension that hangs like a shroud between them. Outside, I can hear the Origin power down and wonder how long it will be until another person joins the cast here.

Kree'Gna looks my way and behind the facade I think he feels trapped.

"Excuse me, Captain, I need to speak with Kree'Gna for a minute."

He nods my way, his eyes never leaving the leathered face before him.

"Thank you for bringing the ship back," I begin and we stride towards the older model Dor'Qual.

"I did not expect there to be a Naval officer here. What does he want with you?"

"So far, only information, though he has yet to ask. Seems like everyone suddenly wants my attention."

"Yes, if you can fly, we want you back at my wing. The dispatches are likely to be moving very quickly now. This Gallen affair Dnong started has taken on a life of its own.

I look over at the craft on my patio and the well appointed woman leaving it. Imperator's office all right, headed my way.

"Doctor still hasn't cleared me to fly."

"When?" Kree'Gna asks.

"I can check back in a couple days, but he said a week."

"As soon as you can. Athas M'Gren has asked for you personally."

"Fair enough. Please thank her for trying to assist me that night at the hospital."

"You should thank her when you can."

I shrug, "Fair enough, my friend. Kree'Gna, what is happening?"

"I can not say here, but it is a..." he pauses, clearly searching for the English word, "... Something like a twisting storm wind of great power."

"Tornado?"

"Yes," he says grimly, "It is a tornado unleashed."

"Should I call the embassy when I'm cleared?"

"Yes. Please do not delay. The dispatches they want to send are not to be transmitted and yet we do not want to have to show military force to protect the couriers. You have proven yourself able to protect me, we need to have the human element in UEE space."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

He bows appropriately and says, "Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

Bowing in return, I offer, "Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

He is onto the staircase before the Imperator's representative reaches us and the ramp is retracting moments later.

With the new arrival I step back towards the hangar as the sounds of a thruster launch warning rings out.

The woman carrying the Imperator's insignia is taller than I am, probably about forty, and has the intense expression that tells me I will probably not want to try to joke with her. Before she can speak, the Dor'Qual lifts, throwing sand our way and filling the hangar with a barely bearable racket.

As the sound recedes skyward, Captain Priest strides up.

The woman holds out her hand towards me and says, "Do I have the pleasure of addressing Citizen Shawn Ryan?"

'Citizen', huh? The only times I've heard that recently were ones that served as preamble to something manipulative or worse. "I'm Shawn Ryan."

"Captain," she says looking briefly his way before returning her stare to my face. "Citizen Ryan, I am Janice Amesly of Terran branch of the Imperator's Office. We have received information that you may be able to help us address a serious problem that has recently come up. Can you gather whatever you need to come with me to Earth?"

"Wait a minute!" The Captain interjects but her hand raises to interrupt.

I think she means to say something to him but before she can I reply, "The doctor still hasn't cleared me to return to space. My skull fracture hasn't stabilized yet."

They both exchange looks and the Captain asks, "When will you know?"

"I'm supposed to see the Doc in four or five days."

"I'll have our surgeon here in a few hours to confirm this," Ms. Amesly states. "In the mean time, Captain, anything you wish to ask Citizen Ryan will need to be asked in my presence."

I feel so special. Not.

Captain Priest, however, nods in agreement and they both look my way. A shiver travels up my back and I think the air just got icy in here.

"Why would you want me to go to Earth anyway?" I dare to ask and her glare tells me that I'm on rather thin ice.

"You expecting any more company?" The Captain half asks and half smirks. The expression doesn't really fit the man or the circumstance.

"Oh, I don't know, I'm surprised the OES hasn't returned yet."

They both glance at each other and Amesly asks, "Were they here already today?"

"No, haven't seen one of them since Vas got blasted. But that is quite a while for them not to be hanging around, so they are about due."

"I'll be right back," the woman says, "No conference without me."

She strides off and he looks back at me. "You have inherited a whirlwind it seems."

"Yeah, seems that way."

"What do you know about the Xi'An Navy?"

"Only what I saw the last time I was there."

"Disposition?"

"You are asking someone who knows nothing about the Navy, ours or theirs. All I saw was a lot of ships facing the Kr'Thak side of their space."

"A lot?"

"Hundreds, even the biggest Xi'An ships I've ever seen."

"Do you think you might recognize those ships again?"

"Maybe."

"If I can get you images, can you yes or no them?"

"Shouldn't we wait until whats-her-name gets back?"

He laughs, "Amesly? No, if you can help me, I might be able to get what I need now without her meddling."

"What do you think she went after?"

"OES control. Just in case they do have something going on."

"Wow. Just like that."

"You are hot property now."

"I'm a person."

He smiles, but it is something that borders on evil. "Yeah, just like the headless horseman over there," He declares, pointing towards the bag.

"You remember why you brought me that head?" He is measuring me, but waits for me to continue, "Because I don't take threats very well."

Still assessing, he nods again and says, "Fair enough. But we need to know the enemy's strength and disposition."

"I'm a Xi'An contractor, so that makes me an enemy, right?"

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "No, I hope you aren't."

"What are you two talking about?!" Janice Amesly calls from the hangar doorway and I hear footsteps hurrying over to us.

"He was letting me know he appreciates my value."

I don't think he expected me to cover for him, but he relaxes just a bit when I do.

"I told both of you not to talk while I was away."

"You said not to 'conference'," I retort. "I didn't think chit-chat constituted a 'conference'."

She glares at the Captain and then casts an evaluating look my way.

"I think we should take a walk, Captain," Ms. Amesly says with a sharpness that seems almost commanding.

He glares at her and seems about to respond when his mobi flashes. He must have an implant, I hear nothing.

"Yes?" he responds then, "Yes, Sir."

He looks up at her, over at me, and then back at her.

"Yes, Sir. I'm on location with him now."

Whomever must have something to say, the Captain is quiet.

"Yes, Sir. A Ms. Amesly is..."

I wonder what could be going on.

"No, Sir, not yet. I..."

Must be serious, his body language has just sagged markedly.

"Yes, Sir. But my orders were..."

He doesn't look happy at all.

"Yes, Sir."

The signal must end because the display disappears and the Naval officer looks up at us both.

"Yes, Ms. Amesly, I agree that we should take that walk now."

She smiles, and as the two of them stroll towards the front of the hangar, I wonder how much she had to do with that call.

Without preamble, they both return and the Captain says, "I think I have what I need for now, Mr. Ryan. When I need more, I'll be in touch."

"Okay... um, have a good afternoon."

He smiles, "I would wish you the same, but I suspect that you are about to have a long day."

"Jix," I say with enough sarcasm that it is obvious that I don't mean it at all.

"Yeah, I don't envy you."

…..

The Super Hornet is lifting off and I'm alone with Ms. Amesly.

"How did you pull that off?" I ask.

"The Imperator wants you. He is the supreme commander over the the military. We basically gave Priest a promise of cooperation. It isn't what he wanted, but he understands that it will have to do for now. Of course, if you do not wish to work with us, then he will get to speak further with you."

"Where does that leave me?"

"You are going to come with me to the Imperator's Office."

"I've told you already, I'm not supposed to do space."

"I know that. You are, however, cleared to fly in grav as long as there are no high performance maneuvers."

"Yeah, I guess that's right."

"So you can fly back to Prime under my escort."

"Okay..."

"Just remember that if you try to get away, you'll have to do those nasty full speed twists and turns."

"I won't try," I concede.

"Good."

"I'm curious," I comment.

Ms. Amesly nods, "Yes?"

"I can guess an intel type would know about me, but if you didn't know the OES might be watching me, how did you know who I am?"

"A dossier was delivered to us," she answers, appearing both uncomfortable and confident. "Someone has been watching you since you became the Xi'An diplomat's wing. It says you are both a risk and an asset."

"Ah, yeah. Sounds like something MARC would have."

"What? Who is Mark?"

"They've been interested in knowing more about the Xi'An."

"Who has?"

"MARC."

"Who is he?"

"You're from the Imperator's Office and have stuff they've collected; how can you not know?"

"We got an anonymous delivery. Names and some other data that might have been identifying have been redacted. The Imperator considered it important enough to insist we contact you. We got a tip this evening Prime time that you were about to be interrogated by the military. That is why I'm here."

"I see."

"Was the Xi'An who left your contact?"

"Yes, Kree'Gna is the courier I fly wing for."

"On an Imperial contract."

"Correct."

"With some amount of blessing from the Seers?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Good. We need you."

"I'm not a spy."

"We don't need spies. We need a go-between."

I have to admit that the last thing I expected was 'go-between'... I mean I'm about as politically correct as a Vandie. "Maybe I misunderstood, did you say 'go-between'?"

She nods, "Yes. As in someone both sides could trust to be honest with any messages."

"Both sides of what?"

"The Xi'An Emperor and Imperator Costigan."

"You have got to be kidding me, I don't know either."

"That can be changed, at least on our side."

She has got to be delusional. "Just exactly why am I to believe that Imperator Costigan has any interest in me? Sounds to me like you're speaking out of turn. Is this some kind of trick? You work for Po or someone like that?"

Now she shows some anger, "No. And don't ever question me when I speak for the Imperator." I'm about to respond, but she isn't done; "Ever!" This last she nearly spits at me.

"Ooookaaayyy," I reply, backing up a step.

"OES is not an issue," she says in a more agreeable tone, "And I don't care if they have an interest or not. This disaster with Gallen has to be addressed by everyone who can possibly keep this from becoming a shooting war. The Imperator has asked for your presence tomorrow evening in Prime. You WILL be there, is that clear?" She pauses for effect, then almost purrs, "Citizen Ryan?"

"How would he even know I couldn't come to Earth?"

"My office told me he is coming when I called about Priest."

"Oh." I go with my gut on this one, "I've got nothing to wear for something like that."

"It isn't formal," she replies almost before I finish.

"Two dirty flight suits, a bloodstained shirt and jeans, and a pair of coveralls are all I have left."

"Buy something. He is flying out to meet with you."

I'm shocked. No, stunned. "What?!"

"This is not a scheduled visit. He is coming to have an informal council session with a few chosen advisers. The purpose is to see if you can be one of those who help us escape the machinations of whomever perpetrated this nightmare."

"But..."

"No buts. You will meet with him or you will never fly again."

"Little people, huh?"

"While I hope you are willing to serve as a bigger player if the Imperator wants you... if not, then yeah, something like that."

This doesn't make sense. "Why me?"

"The dossier we were given on you by whomever has had you under surveillance reached the Imperator two days ago. I was notified that he wanted you on Earth, but it seems he changed his mind; he insists on flying out rather off the grid to conduct a meeting in person. Officially, he is at his personal retreat in the Olympics and will no doubt be 'seen' several times. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will make sure you are convicted for violating any one of seventeen capital crimes, sentence to be carried out without appeal."

"I don't do well with threats."

"No, but you also reportedly blab anything that you've done to whomever asks. You are honest about it, but you are a security risk."

"Yet you want me for some secret negotiations?"

"I don't," she replies with a bluntness born of honesty.

Maybe it would be good to know, "And if it were up to you?"

She looks me straight in the eye "I wouldn't be here and the Imperator would still be safe on Earth."

"Honesty from a politician?"

"Why not? I've read that you're honest to a fault. People like you can often tell when someone lies."

I nod.

She continues, "Besides, when it comes to the Imperator, failing to be honest is a danger with serious consequences. It has become a habit to say what I think when I'm asked." She smiles wanly, "And if it matters, I'm career civil service, I'm not really a politician."

"So, I need to fly to Prime tonight?"

"Yes, we want to keep tabs on you until the meeting has concluded and the Imperator is off-world again."

"Can't very well pick up anything if I'm in detention."

She chuckles, "No, we'll set you up with a room in the Lux Imperial and assign you a companion for when you need to go out."

"One of those 'minders' I sometimes hear about?"

"Something like that," she admits with a grin.

…..

I'm looking out a broad expanse of tripan glass over turquoise bay waters. There are sailboats frolicking in the sea breezes down there and almost directly across the bay from me is the distant tower of Valinor Aerospace's headquarters. I'm in a suite at least a couple pay grades above my norm, on the ninety first floor of the five star Lux Imperial Hotel, a room that happens to be in Ms. Amesly's name... for my security, of course. The room is actually accessed through a private hallway, one occupied by a pair of rather substantial plain clothes types who look like they are Marine SpecOps veterans. I'm not really sure if this is a prison or a present. I swear, it could easily be the Imperator's Suite, it is that fancy. I'm almost afraid to sit down for fear I'll get the fabric dirty.

There is a loud knock at the door behind me, followed by the entrance of a middle aged woman, perhaps my height, maybe a few centimeters taller. She is confident in her approach, as if she has every right to be here.

"Mister Ryan, I am Marshal Lu Mei-Li of the Imperator's Office Internal Security. I am here for your protection."

"And good evening to you," I say, rather put out at the interruption and the apparent lack of manners, barging in that way.

"Marshal Lu Mei-Li," she states.

She must think I didn't hear her. "So is it Marshal Lu or Marshal Mei-Li?" I ask crossly.

She obviously doesn't miss my tone of voice and her right eyebrow arches up, "I am not accustomed to being spoken to rudely."

"And I am not accustomed to having someone invade my privacy without the courtesy of waiting to be invited into the room." Her other eyebrow rises to match the first, but I continue, "I presume you are my new jailer. I don't have to be happy about it."

Now her eyes narrow a bit, "Citizen Ryan, while you do not strike me as someone worthy of my attendance, you are my assignment... not to imprison, but to empower to have some freedom of movement. If you rather not have that option, I can have you contained here until the need for you to remain has ended. Is that clear?"

I look her over; dressed in loose-fitting garb not all that dissimilar from a classic Taiji outfit, I have to admit that I can't really assess her physical presence beyond a sense of balance and restraint. She seems to be evaluating me likewise, though I'm sure I don't have nearly the hidden strength I wish I had.

"I'm Shawn Ryan," I say while extending my hand for a bump.

She maintains eye contact, but doesn't move.

I let my arm begin to return towards my side. One moment, she is standing still... in the next I discover she has reached out and her fist has touched mine. The movement is so swift that I don't register the action until our knuckles are already in contact.

"Let us try again," she says in a polite tone. "Please forgive my intrusion into your quarters, Citizen Shawn Ryan. I am Marshal Lu Mei-Li of the Imperator's Office Internal Security."

I offer a half-bow and answer, "Marshal Lu Mei-Li, please forgive my impolite reaction to your presence. I am Shawn Ryan, pilot and... as one observer pointed out... nexus for trouble."

…..

A face flashes up on my mobi as the connection goes through.

"Jurdi here."

"Hey, Jurdi, Shawn Ryan."

Her eyes seem to focus on the connection more than they had, "Oh, hello, Shawn, how are you?"

"Doing pretty good," I reply while realizing that she seems interested in the very fact that I'm calling. She must have a myriad of customers, her noticing me seems to make me feel special. Of course, it's probably one of those things a good merchant learns how to do, and one of the reasons I will never be one.

"I'm glad you called," she starts and I have to admit that for just a moment, I feel like a teenager about to ask his dream girl out on a date. Fortunately for me, she continues, "I seem to remember that you have a farm or something like that... right?"

"I have a tea plantation."

"Oh, yeah. Great! I need to ask you some questions about that if you can make time when you're down here next."

"Well, I'll answer whatever you want and I'm hoping to stop in tomorrow morning for a new jumpsuit or something."

"Oh? What happened to that nice one I sold you a few months back? Got it all shot up?"

"Something like that."

"Sure, I still have some stock in your size left."

That sounds odd. "You having supply problems?"

"No, I'm selling the store off and not making new suits."

"What?!"

"Rat race is getting to me. Probably shouldn't bother you with it, but things have gotten hot and even nasty lately."

I'm sure my jaw just unhinged. "Why so for you?"

"Look, this isn't the best way to talk about such things. Without saying the name, do you remember where you were introduced to me by Ali Abu-Ahmed?"

"Um..."

"The waiters don't speak English."

The Cafe Français comes immediately to mind and I remember Ali had been a sometime employer who called Jurdi up and asked her to join us. "Yeah, you had tea and a croissant."

"Meet me there in the morning and we can talk."

"I've got a minder who will be following me."

"Minder? You in trouble?"

"When have I not been?"

She laughs, "Okay, you never tell me the gory details, so how should I know?"

"Touche. She seems okay, but maybe we should talk about it in a few days."

"No minder then?"

"Shouldn't be."

"Hmmm..."

"What I called about is a suit, though."

"Let's do breakfast anyway. I do have some questions I don't care about someone overhearing. How about eight?"

"Works for me. I'll look forward to it."

"Me too," she answers... and I wish it were for more personal reasons.

…..

Sunset out over the bay is incredible, the wind fresh and cool. I'm standing by the waterfront with Marshal Lu a friendly distance away. Her face seems relaxed as she leans her back against the railing I'm looking over, but a glance her way tells me she is carefully aware of our surroundings... honestly, her vigilance is reassuring.

Out on the water there is a slight chop, enough that as the docked sailboats bob back and forth, their masts seem to be dancing with each other. I wish I could be out on one of those boats when they sail so freely... for the planet bound, it must be as exciting as playing amid the stars.

Terra's orb slips finally below the horizon and Marshal Lu touches my arm, "We should go now."

"Getting hungry?" I ask.

"No, but we are losing light and soon I will not be able to identify threats as well."

"Always business, eh?"

"When I work, yes. When it is my own time... sometimes," she admits.

I chuckle, "Yeah, work does intrude into life at times, doesn't it?"

She glances my way and as her head returns to its observation mode, she nods.

"How about we order something in?"

"You are welcome to order from the hotel's menu once we get back."

"No stopping for Chinese perhaps?"

I get a wry look for that, followed by, "No, Citizen Ryan. If it isn't on the menu in the hotel, you don't get it tonight."

"Citizen again, huh? I didn't think I was being that bad."

I think I detect a slight eye roll at this. "Come on," she says, motioning towards the hotel and I follow obediently.

…..

"Madame?" The man addressing Jurdi isn't tall or short, kinda more in the middle, he seems the prototypical waiter, not detracting from the open air relaxed sense of morning at a nice restaurant. Other than a different accent, I wouldn't especially notice him on the street.

Jurdi looks at Marshal Lu and I, asking, "My treat?"

"Sure, I guess," I reply and Mei-Li nods.

Jurdi looks up at the waiter and answers, "Nous aurons chacun deux croissants et un verre de Vouvray, avec une petite roue de votre fromage fait maison pour nous pour diviser. Merci."

"Oui, Madame," he says with a growing smile and heads off to wherever.

"So, what are we having?" I venture.

"I told him we will each have two croissants and a glass of Vouvray, with a small wheel of their home-made cheese for us to split."

"Sounds good."

"I'll pass on the cheese," the Marshal says. "Cheese and I don't get along."

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you like something else?" Jurdi looks concerned.

"No, no. I just need to watch my figure or I turn into a balloon."

Honestly, I can't imagine the fit woman speaking ever getting the least bit fat, but then again, who am I to presume? "And you are okay with the wine?" I ask her.

"Wine? Oh, no... please, no wine while I work. Water will do fine."

"How about juice?" Jurdi inquires.

Mei-Li seems to think for a moment, then nods while asking, "Orange juice?"

Now our hostess has a smile and calls out, "Garçon!"

Out of a nearby doorway hustles our waiter; "Oui, Madame?" he queries.

Jurdi smiles as she answers him, "Un moins de verre de vin, mais ajoutent un verre de jus orange, s'il vous plaît."

"Merci, Madame." Without another word, he is gone again.

Around our feet, a troop of birds hops, chirping merrily while looking for crumbs or bugs. They avoid us by varying degrees and I would guess there are youngsters in among them, because some of the birds stop to feed others at times.

"Shawn," Jurdi starts, "You said you have a plantation of some sort?"

"Yeah, tea plantation... though right now things are a little unsettled there."

"Unsettled? How so?"

"Well, the Big house..." emotions start to flood towards my surface, "It... um..." I can't seem to control it as first one tear and then another slips from my eyes.

Alarmed, she asks, "Shawn, what's wrong?!"

"They blew it up... I..." Words seem to dry up as my eyes overflow.

"You lost people, didn't you?"

All I can do is nod as a river forms under each eye.

"I'm so sorry, Shawn." Both women look a lot less uncomfortable than men in the same situation would, and I take some comfort from the fact.

…..

Well, the floodwaters finally dry up and I'm left looking at these two women rather sheepishly... nothing like an uncontrolled crying fit to emasculate a guy, right?

"Just tell me the parts you want to share," Jurdi says with a soft tone and gentle voice.

"Camilla and Arron, my partners, and Brother Patrick, an acquaintance, were in the building when it was hit. I was in our hangar with two ships between me and the blast and I was still pretty badly messed up."

She nods, then a quizzical looks comes to her features. "You said your brother Patrick, but that he was an acquaintance..."

Laughing, I answer, "No, I guess 'Brother' is some kind of title."

"Ah... a CJ?"

"If you mean 'Church of the Journey' then, no. Some kind of Christian, I think."

"Really?" she asks with an odd look, but I think she is more thinking out loud than expecting a reply.

The waiter has reappeared with a platter and several glasses. Placing them adroitly upon the table, he announces, "Le petit déjeuner est servi!"

Not having a clue about anything he's said, I guess at the appropriate comment and just say, "Thanks."

Almost simultaneously, Jurdi says, "Merci beaucoup, Monsieur." I get the impression that she has said something similar, but probably done it in a nicer way.

As she starts to divide up the golden crescent shaped rolls, Jurdi asks, "So, just where is this plantation of yours?"

"Torre Nor uplands, maybe a hundred kilometers from the ocean."

We are instantly eye to eye. "Those green hills north of New Austin?" she asks excitedly.

"Yeah," I answer with perhaps a bit of puzzlement, "Pretty much."

"Is it too early to ask if you need a new partner?"

"Um..." I stumble for thought. "I'm still working out with Camilla and Arron's estate just exactly how to regain control of their share."

"I might be able to help."

A large slice of the whitish semi-soft cheese and two of the croissants have been laid on a plate before me, and she hands me a glass of light golden wine. I half wonder if it's all that wise to have wine this early in the day when I'm going to be meeting with no less person than the UEE Imperator... but I decide that I don't often get to do a meal with this woman and I'm not going to cheat myself of its pleasures.

"Thanks for this, Jurdi," I offer, hoping she can understand how much I like sitting here with her. Okay, I have Marshal Lu chaperoning all this, but such is life.

"You are welcome, Shawn."

Jurdi pauses, her eyes focused somewhere else... whatever she is thinking about, she suddenly snaps out of it and lifts her slice of cheese to her lips.

I do likewise, following a bite of excellent cheese with one of the slightly crispy, flaky roll. We both raise our glasses at the same moment and I offer a quick toast, "To our gracious hostess, great thanks for your generosity with so fine a meal."

"Thank you, Shawn. You're such a gentleman."

I laugh and shake my head a bit, then note that Mei-Li is nodding in agreement. I feel oddly out of place, like I'm just a fraud of some sort... but the feeling passes and I take a drink. The wine is light and pleasant, one glass over a rich meal shouldn't be a problem.

…..

The meal is gone, bused away quietly and with great deference. I'm full and comfortable... a sated state I suddenly recall Grandpa referring to as 'fat, dumb, and happy'." The breeze rustles leaves overhead and the morning sunlight plays with those little emerald flags to add a magical shimmering to the scene.

"So," Jurdi begins, "You need a suit. Specs?"

I glance at the Marshal before I answer, "A really nice flight-suit. Something I can wear to meet..." Marshal Lu sharply inhales and I guess she is giving a warning, "Someone important."

Jurdi's eyes flicker to Mei-Li's, then back to mine. "Simi-formal? Maybe not your usual leather but still dark if not black? Well concealed light armor, less functional and more..." she pauses as if searching for the right euphemism, "Meant to create an impression?"

I nod. She got all that from my lame attempt to explain? What a woman.

"I have one in dark blue on charcoal gray and one in ops black that should work, I can tailor either of them in a day or so."

I glance at Marshal Lu and say, "I need it this afternoon."

Looking back at Jurdi, I realize she has taken this in stride without noticeable surprise. "Well, of course you do," she states, just as if she already knew the need.

…..

"Raise your arms over your head," Jurdi instructs and I comply. "I'm not sure I've got the underarms quite right, but it is the best I can do on short notice. I can finish it up when you stop back in."

"When is that?"

"Whenever she," here Jurdi points to Mei-Li, "Lets you come back. Whenever you are done with whatever is so important."

"Um..."

"Look, I might want in on your plantation thing. May I at least visit it to see if I like the place?"

"There isn't a big house."

"You said there's a hangar... if that is still there, I can sleep in my 'Lancer if need be."

I shrug, "Sure. It's an Aeroview, plenty of room. Let me send you a link..."

"Wait!" Marshal Lu is suddenly agitated.

"I'm just sending her the coordinates of the tea plantation."

"I will watch," she states, leaving no doubt that I'm in big trouble if I argue.

"Sure. See, this is the planet, now Torre Nor, now my district, now the hamlet, and now this is my plantation. May I send it to her?"

"Yes, but just that."

"Okay."

Jurdi watches, seemingly bemused until her mobi chimes and she does a quick review. "Got it," she announces. "Mind if I go out there tonight?"

"No, go for it."

"Jix! If I like it, I'll wait there for you, otherwise just mobi me."

"I'll do that."


	17. Chapter 16 – Barbecue

Janice Amesly from the Imperator's Office strides confidently before me and my ears tell me that Marshal Lu is easily keeping pace two steps behind as we hustle through a long hallway... one with cameras and maybe even a security device or two built into the walls. We were in the Terran Governor's Offices, but we have taken an elevator into windowless environs and we have easily walked a kilometer since exiting. We finally reach a corner and another elevator.

"I've gotten enough exercise with this that I can have a slice of pie when I'm done," I comment to the air in front of me. Neither answers and I'm left wondering what the two of them think.

The door whisks open and Ms. Amesly leads into a fairly short corridor... one that is markedly fancy. No one skimped on the furnishings and fixtures here. In addition, there are four professionally dressed men, two at a doorway halfway down on the right, one here by the elevator door, and one at the far end of the corridor. I suspect we are headed to the guarded door... nope, Ms. Amesly turns left instead and we enter a large conference room already somewhat populated by folks sitting around a long oblong table.

My mobi vibrates... but it doesn't chime... odd, that, it usually chimes. My arm comes up and as the screen materializes the Marshal is suddenly at my side. I hold the hologram up for her to see as I read a message:

"Have fun at the barbecue. Xin's dad is having a bad day, don't let him get to you. Just be yourself. G"

"What is that?" Mei-Li asks.

"Note from a friend, I guess I'm supposed to be visiting someone for dinner." She looks at me like I'm not being completely honest, but I look at the note and say, "What do you think she could have meant?"

She shrugs, seems to agree that the note seems innocent, and steps out the door into the hall.

I, however, know for certain that it is from Gloria and I need to be wary of Mr. Po for some reason. Looking around the room, I spot him near the end of the table. There are nine other people here, not counting myself or Ms. Amesly.

From the hallway, one of the men calls, "All rise for the Imperator!"

Everyone in the room rises and in strides the man we all know from his vids and posters: Imperator Costigan. He moves with purpose and some sense of haste to the seat at the far end of the table, then sits rather unceremoniously.

Without preamble, he states, "Let's get this done."

As someone hands him a pad-sized glas and what I can only assume are briefing materials, Janice motions me to the seat directly opposite the Imperator's... I get to have him glare at me down the length of the table. Great, just great. Any imaginings I might have had that this was to be anything like a personal meeting are fleeing for the shadows... though bright lights seem to have limited those to patches under the chairs and table.

I have no clue what to do or say... what am I supposed to expect? Fortunately, this has been orchestrated somewhere else in advance.

At the Imperator's right sits someone I don't recognize, but next to them is Mr. Po and one closer is the petite woman shrink from the OES Island... Ms... oh, what was her name? Doctor Lee. Yeah, that's it. Next to her is an empty chair, then a woman I don't recognize dressed to the nines and a equally smartly attired man in the chair next to her. One empty chair separates this last person from me... correction, Ms. Amesly is taking that chair.

Continuing around the table to my right is an empty chair, then a woman Navy officer with a star flag on the table in front of her and then Captain Josiah Priest. Next to him is a Marine officer, also with a single star flag at his place. Finally, three more faces I don't recognize sit between the Marine and the Imperator.

The woman to the Imperator's right clears her throat and announces, "Interview of Citizen Shawn Ryan of Terra, time and date stamp," there is the sound of a quiet beep, "Recording secured on code word 'Indigent'. Do not duplicate or transcribe without the Imperator's personal permission." There is another beep and the room quiets as everyone looks my way.

"You will forgive my going right to the point, Ryan," Imp. Costigan begins, "But I hate to waste time. Is this stuff true?" I can tell he is holding up a glas of some sort.

Beside me, Ms. Amesly speaks up, "Sir, we have not shown Citizen Ryan the report."

"Puts you in a bad spot, then doesn't it?" He half chuckles and half growls.

Mr. Po clears his throat at this moment and opines, "I seriously doubt it sir."

"You know Po, don't you Ryan?"

"Yes, sir... er... your honor... um..."

"Costigan will do in this room, I don't have time for formal BS."

Pretty plain spoken, "Yes, sir. Mr. Po hosted me for some interrogation at his island."

Po comments loudly, "As you clearly stated in this report."

"What report?"

"This one!" He all but yells, while slinging a glas down the table at me. I catch it and look it over. At a cursory reading it looks like many pages, reports on what I've done and said, pretty much since Gloria first sat down opposite me in the Covalex bar.

"This isn't mine, Mr. Po."

"Imperator, I have an expert here who will gladly testify that her updated profile of Mr. Ryan shows him to be an unflinching liar. I contend that this report shows he is also a master spy who has been playing with us all along for reasons only he can know."

I feel my anger rise and I think the Imperator wants to make sure the bait is taken, "He just called you a liar, Ryan. What do you think about that?"

Gloria warned me... the barbecue... she meant they are planning to roast me! Through clenched teeth, I reply, "He is in error."

"Alright, Po," the man opposite me says, "Tell me what you've got."

Po stands and addresses everyone around the table, "Ladies and Gentlemen, this report contains material that could only have come from one source." He pauses and gestures at me, "Shawn Ryan."

The most unexpected thing happens... Captain Priest starts laughing. From Po's expression in response, I suspect there is no love lost between these two. Everyone else in the room, including Imperator Costigan, looks first my way, then at the Captain, and finally back at Mr. Po.

With the naval officer still a bit past holding decorum, the Imperator says quite clearly, "Po, you care to explain that little bombshell?"

"That will not be a problem, Imperator." He looks around the room and even Josiah quiets down. "I would like to state for the record that we sweep our buildings for bugs and recorders several times each day. All meeting participants have to cross detector lines. Meetings are white noise covered to limit all but our own recording filters. Our procedures are updated daily with any new set of best practices sent from OES headquarters. This ignores the fact that anything larger than a banfish is detected and accounted for to a range of six kilometers from shore and nothing we do not allow exists for long on our island... getting a new bug ashore is impossible.

"The only way to know what happens in any meeting is to be present. I can account for all the other participants in the days we met with Shawn Ryan and they did not release this document. Yet there are detailed transcripts of EVERYTHING said and done while Ryan was on the island. EVERYTHING!"

Costigan looks my way with a rather incredulous expression. "You got an answer to that Ryan?"

"Gloria said that MARC pulls this stuff off of the OES storage."

Now it is Mr. Po's turn to laugh, albeit a plainly forced laugh that lasts only long enough for effect. "You have to think I'm daft... didn't you think I would check out your tale of 'MARC' agents with superior knowledge and technology? I have the budget breakdown for their whole Committee right here, from the Imperial Senate's last fiscal appropriations bill. According to the Imperial Archive's breakdown, they have less budget than I have just for my people in Prime, not even for the entire planet. For them to operate such a fancy universe dominating secret agency, there would have to be a budget equal to Synthworld!"

The Imperator calmly says, "Go on."

"For example, the 'committee' that supposedly runs this little charade is composed entirely of pensioners; VOLUNTEERS, no less! They are ex-civil servants, a couple of retired military, and several former UPARQ professors. Not ONE is former OES, and just one is former Advocacy. The entire staff list for MARC is less than two thousand, including a group even they call 'Flunkies'. I have twice that many agents just here on Terra."

Loud enough to catch several people's attention, the well dressed woman on my left says, "For all the good it does to have them."

"Excuse me?" Po sounds annoyed.

"I will have something to say when you are done with your rant, Mr. Po."

"My RANT?!"

"I didn't stutter." There is a ton of animosity here, and the woman isn't hiding it.

"Senator, I would have expected a bit more consideration."

"Your people on this planet trip over their own toes. I'm chair of the Intelligence Committee, remember? I see the reports. I even seem to remember your experts said this man," she gestures towards me, "Was completely unfit for incorporating because he had, and I quote, 'No tradecraft'. As if that wasn't enough, your cadre of experts haven't solved the Gallen issue yet, have they?"

"Senator, we are working on that even as I speak."

"Of course you are, you are in this meeting and that qualifies."

"Okay," Costigan finally interrupts, "That's enough from the two of you for right now. Po, do you have more to say about Ryan's case?"

"Yes, Imperator. I actually visited the local head of MARC, a 'Librarian' named Morgan. I could have fit his office into my wife's closet. I didn't see anything worth note and the surveillance device I left hasn't revealed any covert operations happening since our meeting. If he leads part of this super shadow agency, I'm the king of Kashmir. Further, I've wasted good man hours having some of my best agents check on the rest of his staff: four 'Researchers', all number crunching math and higher science types who might be useful, but who are all the underpaid academic weenies that could never keep a secret; there are some 'Reporters', but they are apparently out in the field somewhere or other; I already described the remaining group, 'Flunkies'. Does Mr. Ryan here actually believe that any of us would think this constitutes an agency with advanced tech and their fingers in every pie?"

I keep thinking about what Gloria's note said: "Xin's dad is having a bad day, don't let him get to you. Just be yourself." It is patently obvious that Xin's dad is having a bad day and he is trying to make fiction into facts to get to me. What exactly does it mean to be myself?

Imperator Costigan looks my way and I realize that everyone else is doing likewise.

Time to speak up, I guess, "They told me they're called MARC. If they aren't, how am I supposed to know? Maybe they figured that I would tell whomever and you wouldn't believe me. How should I know? Oh, yeah, I'm supposed to be a better spy than you are. Do you seriously think that?"

Several eyebrows around the table rise and Mr. Po is again the center of attention. I think a hint of doubt flickers there, but Dr. Lee chooses this exact moment to clear her throat and ask, "Imperator Costigan, may I speak?"

"And you are whom, again?"

"Doctor Lee, ranking OES profile and asset psychologist on Terra."

"Okay, what do you have?"

"As a careful reading of this document indicates, I did not believe Mr. Ryan to be more than a liar from the start. What I failed to recognize is that he has had special training to defeat human flutter tests... no result from our lie detectors can be considered accurate when someone has had such training. Our own deep cover agents often have similar training, but I have no recollection of someone this old doing it so effectively. Since we have failed to determine the origins or reasons for this, it is my professional opinion that he is a risk to even have in the same room with you, sir. I recommend that we detain him and move him to a facility designed to break down his resistance until we can question him effectively."

Captain Priest is laughing again. "You OES types, if it doesn't match your little profile, it can't be what it is. What a joke."

"Stifle it, Priest," Po growls.

"Why, gonna have your dog suggest that I be renditioned, too? I thought we were here to solve a problem, not witch hunt a possible lead into a coffin."

The Imperator and most of the other people seem to be watching this like some kind of ball match, their heads turning back and forth.

"Ryan is a security risk and you are not concerned?" Mr. Po is more than irate and it is really showing. "Some patriot you are."

"He is less a security risk than your daughter is," the Captain snaps back.

"Excuse me?!" Po roars.

"How else could he have penetrated your system to get your post interview report? He must have been incredible if the pillow games won her over so easily. No... wait, according to this document, he has the sexual stamina of an average sixty year old... which he happens to be. How devious a provocateur can he be, reporting something guaranteed to humiliate himself while knowing that should the truth come out it would show that he is such a master that he has gained total control over your own daughter?"

Po seems for a moment at least a little confused, but Dr. Lee brightens, "Of course, that would explain the details I was concerned about. He is a sexual master and Xin was seduced. How could I have missed that?" Looking at the Captain, she asks, "So you would agree that he is even more dangerous than I thought?"

Captain Priest shakes his head and addresses the Imperator, "I suggest that someone might be checked for paranoia and I don't mean Citizen Ryan here."

Po looks at the doctor and sinks slowly into his chair.

"Ryan, are you a spy?" Imperator Costigan asks me.

"Depends on who you ask, sir. MARC and the Seer's have both said that in some ways I am, whether I like it or not."

"Hmmph, sounds like a devious answer to me." The Imperator looks around the table. "He answers 'Maybe'... not exactly confidence building unless you grasp that he didn't say 'No'." Looking back at me he follows up, "Ryan, have you had any training on how to lie well enough to pass OES flutters?"

"Is a flutters a lie detector?"

He visibly smiles before answering, "Yeah, just like on the holovids, only better."

"Nope, no training. I'm a lousy liar."

Several folks chuckle and Costigan nods, "So, Po, I understand you want him detained and sent into some black hole for questioning, likely never to be seen again?"

The OES officer sits fairly straight and clearly responds, "Yes, sir, that is our recommendation."

"Duly noted. Senator? Did you still have something to say?"

"I'll wait until we hear from the High Advocate's people and our friends in the military."

The Imperator nods and looks to his left, "Director? What say the experts at the Advocacy?"

"I think Section Chief Mills is better able to answer, sir."

"Mills?"

"Thank you, Imperator. My concerns with Mr. Ryan stem mainly from his interaction with the now deceased Dalton Banner, aka. 'Vixen', in a Prime eatery a few weeks back. We have not been allowed to fully question him and the only Agent that had spent any time with him is now in the morgue at seventh section on Gen awaiting next of kin."

"You didn't finish questioning him when you had him in custody?"

Mr. Po speaks before Ms. Mills can, "They were asking questions that are covered under OEGC 2741-171 Section 4. My man took control of the process when Mr. Ryan seemed all too willing to answer questions about covered matters."

"Yeah, well, no one told me about your rules," I snarl with rather obvious frustration, "And Major McMurdoe sure as hell didn't seem to care to be..."

The Imperator cuts me off, "Ryan, stuff it. I want to hear what they have to say."

Well, slap me silly and call me stupid. Why the heck am I here? Hmmph, let's see if I want to cooperate when my turn comes. All that stuff about me being a go-between sure sounds like a smoke screen now that I'm here; they are just deciding what to do to me... well, except the Captain, I think he still wants something. Well, and maybe the Senator... though it occurs to me that there were supposed to be two Senators behind the whole Tish and Gallen thing... is she one of them?

Costigan looks back over at the woman seated two to his left and says, "Mills. Are there things that you can ask here?"

She looks rather surprised, then looks my way. "Yes, Imperator, I believe there are questions I could ask here."

"Director Carmody, can I presume Mills cleared for 2741-171?"

The person who must be the director nods, "Yes, sir."

The Imperator looks around the table, "Senator, I presume your aide is also cleared to secrecy act 171."

"Of course, Imperator."

He looks back at the Advocacy Section Chief, "Okay, Mills, ask Ryan your questions. Ryan, you may answer anything in this room, don't worry about the secrecy act stuff."

I nod, but am still deciding if I really want to cooperate with whatever witch hunt this woman intends to perpetrate.

"Thank you, sir," she begins, then standing, she strolls down the table in my direction. "Citizen Ryan, You knew the deceased, Mr. Dalton Banner... correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am. We had..."

She interrupts, "Just answer my questions, Citizen."

I think she can tell that I'm getting annoyed, but if anything her smile means she wants that response.

"You were once his partner, is that correct?"

"We shared bounty contracts, but we weren't partners."

"Let me rephrase that. You were once his lover, is that correct?"

"What?! What the hells are you talking about?"

"Banner was registered as gay. It is well known that he prefers to fly with men he is intimate with."

"Well, I sure as hells wasn't one of them."

"Do you deny that you flew with him?"

"No. Doesn't make me a switch hitter."

"Did Mr. Banner have your mobi number?"

"Of course, I listed on the Bounty Hunters guild board and I've had the same mobi id for nearly forty years."

"Did he call you and ask to meet you the night you murdered him?"

"He called but it sure as hells wasn't murder. He was trying to kill me."

"Did you know that he had recently lost a companion?"

"No, why should I know that, we hadn't..."

She interrupts again, "Was he upset and wanted your company?"

"No, he said he had..."

"Then why would you have gotten up in the middle of the night your time to fly to Prime?"

"He said he had information about who was out to kill me. I take that serio..."

"Really?" she cuts me off again with a tone reeking with doubt. "Why did you already have your weapon out when Mr. Banner turned the corner in JonJohn's?"

"He was there to kill me."

"How do you know that?"

"He knew about Hornek Tish and Vixen being a man. And he nearly stabbed me with that blade."

"Didn't he draw the blade to defend himself?"

"I'm not that slow."

"You were already armed and ready for him."

"Damned straight. He was coming for..."

"You threatened to blackmail him."

"What? You get some Color slipped into your lunch?"

"There is no call for..."

"Rudeness? Like interrupting? Like you've done to me every time I've tried to give a complete answer?"

"I am asking the questions."

"The hells you are, you are asking the LEADING questions. There's a BIG difference."

The Imperator speaks up, "Settle down Ryan."

"Sir," I respond with barely controlled anger, "I've been railroaded by unscrupulous Advocacy types and those nine years they stole are definitely NOT forgotten."

Costigan nods, "Yes, I've been briefed on that unfortunate error." He looks at the Section Chief and orders, "Mills, sit down." Once she has, he continues, "Ryan, tell me what happened."

"Sir, there had already been two attempts on my life. Banner was someone I had flown with before, we had traded favors..." I glare at Mills and add, "... None sexual. Comrades in arms often keep an ear out for trouble for associates who might have services or cash to make any effort worth the trouble warning them. That's what I thought he was doing when he called and asked to meet. He had a list of cloak and dagger things he wanted done, but I figured maybe he was worried that whomever he was ratting out might suspect him if he didn't take precautions."

"You had your weapon out and shot him?"

"Sir, You may not know how bounty hunters work, but I do. Banner was working and I was his target. You don't live to be my age without learning how to be prepared when you recognize that things are going sideways."

"Did you shoot before you saw the blade?"

"No, sir."

"Why did you think he was this Vixen? Wouldn't that be a woman's title?"

"As I said, sir, I already knew that Vixen was a man."

Mills speaks up, "And just how did you know that?"

"The OES' Major McMurdoe had told me that while I was on their island." Holding up the glas that Po had thrown at me I continue, "And I bet that is in here if everything else from the OES party is included."

Captain Priest chuckles before he chimes in, "Page 341, third paragraph."

"Thank you, Captain," the Imperator states. "Mills, has he satisfied your concerns?"

"No, sir. I think most of that stuff would get shredded under a good cross-examination. I say he is guilty of murdering a former lover until I see better evidence to the contrary."

I inhale to serve a retort, but Imperator Costigan seems to know it is coming and cuts me off, "Mellow out, Ryan, you aren't getting arrested. OEGC 2741-171 Section 4 applies to you and that covers too much evidence for you to be taken in, much less sent away again. I say so. Understand?"

I want to argue, but I'm suddenly weary of the whole mess. "Yes, sir," I reply.

The Imperator seems to accept my response and continues around the table, "Admiral, do either you or our laughing Captain wish to make an addition to our little party?"

The Admiral speaks in a calm voice, "My man on this case is Captain Priest, sir. I happen to agree with his conclusions, but perhaps he can offer the details better than I can."

"Captain?"

"Thank you, Imperator. As this report confirms, Shawn Ryan is a fortuitous accident for the Empire. While I can not pinpoint this document's source, I have indeed heard about a shadow organization that serves from within the Empire. If it is not actually MARC like they claimed to Mr. Ryan, it isn't his fault. In fact, when I personally went to the district hospital shortly after OES Agent Vas was killed, one of the wounded women who had been in the room when the battle happened was reportedly a MARC 'Flunkie'; the attending physician is the one who told me about her. Granted, without an appropriate finding, I am not allowed to peruse the hospital's vid records, but it is also worth note that the woman who came to pick up this 'Flunkie' perfectly fits Ryan's description of 'Gloria'. She was on scene for no more than four minutes and my expert opinion is that she was as observant as I would hope I am in the field."

Mr. Po grumbles something and the Captain pauses as if he expects Po to speak up. When the OES man sits silent, Priest continues, "However, even if they are not the source of the document, I'm convinced that someone who has the Empire's interests at heart forwarded it to your office."

The Captain has our complete attention and the Imperator simply says, "Go on."

"Thank you, sir. Several months ago, I became aware that there had been an attempt on Ryan's life from an unknown pilot of a UEEN tagged 350R while in the Hadur system. The fact that Ryan was employed as a civilian escort for a Xi'An diplomatic courier made the case interesting enough to personally start checking up on. It wouldn't be the first time they had flipped one of our people, you know? Well, I started checking him out while searching for the killer. When Ryan disappeared a week later, it raised my curiosity further. I started digging.

"What I found was a modest record and a good reputation from four decades as a wing escort for merchants and couriers, including the Xi'An he is currently contracted to fly with. He has spent some time as a bounty hunter, though without as much success, and he has never had trouble with any of the governments he has interacted with. True, the Advocacy appears to have wanted nothing to do with him since the Ikasori mistake was uncovered, but I wasn't able to even find any record of arrests at any local levels. The times he has been questioned related to deceased bounty subjects have all ended satisfactorily for the interested government agencies.

"His ground roots are a modest tea plantation in the Torre Nor district here on Terra; it appears to be something of a labor of love, the plantation accounts appear to have been regularly supported from his personal accounts, I doubt seriously that he has ever made a single credit in profit. He has no family contacts, though I have discovered that he has a younger half-brother who retired from the Navy just four standards back."

I'm rather surprised that he would know this... I sure didn't.

The Captain continues, "Recently, his small tea growing business became a group affair; he shared ownership in his tea plantation with two other folks when he sold them a half share... the funds were used almost immediately to buy his 350R. Selling cherished assets to buy a craft capable of keeping up with his employer's Xress... not exactly how someone with money backing him acts, is it?"

I shrug, but he isn't even looking my way.

"So, you think he's a saint of some sort?" the Senator asks with enough sarcasm that it lowers my opinion of her drastically.

Captain Priest stares her down while replying, "No, Senator, I have no such delusions. I do think he is an asset that we can't squander."

"Squander," Po exhales with disgust, "Time spent with him is squandered by definition."

"On the contrary, Shen, he has seen what we haven't."

"And says up front that he was being deliberately shown things... and can't be certain that what he saw wasn't manipulated."

"But if he can confirm what we have glimpses of, he is an intel gold mine."

"You can't trust anything he says," Doctor Lee announces as if we hadn't already heard her assessment.

"And I believe," Captain Priest retorts, "That you, Doctor, have issues with people who don't fit into your little models... especially when they don't put up with your antics."

"How dare..."

"Stop it, both of you," Imperator Costigan orders. "Captain, do you have anything else to say?"

"Sir, I think we can't let this source slip by."

"What do you propose?"

Now the Admiral speaks up, "Imperator, we are prepared to commission Citizen Ryan as a Lieutenant Commander in Naval Intelligence. He would be retired, of course, and able to draw pension immediately upon resolution of the current tensions. Should he not wish to be commissioned, we have an order drawn up for your signature that would place him at our disposal as an enlisted person through an Article of Draft."

As I gasp at what she is proposing, the Senator chimes in, "That was a Messer era ploy, wasn't it, Admiral?"

"The Navy has needs, Senator. You know this quite well, so you can stop grandstanding for Ryan's benefit."

"You have no idea what I have in mind for Ryan."

"And I'm sure he will like whatever even less than being drafted into the Navy."

"I would agree," the Senator responds. "That doesn't change my point: Messer era tactics will be exposed by the press and you would hurt us all. After all, your Captain's assertion supported by this report..." she holds up her glas with what I presume is another copy of the MARC report, "... And even the early OES evaluations, is that Shawn Ryan speaks his mind and does so without limits and with complete honesty."

The Admiral calmly replies, "We don't have to leave him out in public to wander around."

As the two of them stare at each other, I decide it's my turn. "Just what the hells are you proposing? Kidnapping me but with a Navy uniform instead of a straight jacket or a prison uniform?"

Captain Priest turns to me with an expression that is almost as icy as his tone, "You can be treated as just a data store. If you don't want to cooperate, we too have ways to encourage an attitude change."

"Put a fork in it sonny," I snap back. "At least the OES wasn't trying to dress up their desire to interrogate me with a bunch of fancy words. And you might ask Lee about the success her goons in New Austin had."

"Her goons are amateurs."

"Like hell they are," Po snaps.

"STOP IT! EVERYONE STOP!" The Imperator is really angry and is shows as he rises to his feet and leans over the table. "I don't give a damn about any of your little turf wars. And Ryan, just let ME deal with them, UNDERSTAND?!" He is shouting and all but the Senator and maybe Ms. Amesly seem at least a little intimidated. As he continues, he settles back into his seat, but the tension in his voice remains, "WE have a situation here. WE are not prepared to face war with the Vanduul on the one side and the Xi'An on the other. WE are in this room to assess the character of this fossil and any possible value he might represent to ME in trying to stop something I damn sure didn't start and seriously don't want to let go any further."

He looks around the table and then asks, "Is that completely understood?"

Everyone nods... except me. Call me a fossil, and then act like I'm property? I'm getting tired of this stuff.

Now the Imperator is glaring my way, "Ryan, you can say yes and let me continue, or I can give you to one of these organizations to do with as they see fit. Do you understand?"

"I understand. So what?"

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe this fossil is just not interested."

He sighs, "Okay, bad choice of words on my part. You are my dad's age, and I call him that."

"And he approves?!"

"How should I know?"

"You call your da a fossil and you don't know if it offends him?"

"Trust me, I call him a lot worse than that... just like he does me."

"Well, it's a lousy way to get on my good side."

"You want some honesty, Ryan? I'm trying to find any straw, however thin, that will protect the UEE. I couldn't give a damn about your good side, and I sure as hell wouldn't be here talking with you if it weren't for this report. An anonymous someone else thinks I need to know about you; at this point, I'm starting to doubt that."

"Fair enough. Can I go now?"

He glares at me again, then looks at the Senator. "You still want a piece of him, Amanda?"

The Senator turns to me and smiles; the kind of smile I imagine a spider to have when a fly is hopelessly tangled in its web. Predatory. Merciless. Deadly.

"Citizen Ryan here has an interesting view of reality. Xi'An is good. His own kind are bad. Yet, we are gathered here to decide if he can be a help to us... humans... his own kind."

She is looking directly at me but what she says is for the others, not me. "Do I think he is a master spy? Heavens no. Is he a criminal, guilty of a crime of passion? I seriously doubt it. Is he a stroke of good fortune with an encyclopedia of knowledge about a military he has only seen some of?" here she glances the Captain's way before gazing at me again, "No, he has already told someone everything he knows, the well is dry.

"Let's be serious, Shawn Ryan is too credit strapped to retire comfortably and too footloose to want to. He is an opinionated grumpy old man who has hitched his wagon to the other side. His friend has led him so far afield of where he originally thought he was going that I doubt that he doesn't regularly wish he could undo the whole thing. I would suggest that he is too much of a romantic to just do the prudent thing when it is offered him and too much of a dreamer to realize his time is past.

"This man should not be in this room, he should not have been the center of so much attention, and his friends should still be alive to work with him on his tea farm. But though he is here, we have the opportunity to correct at least some of this Gallen problem he has caused."

"What?!" I interrupt, rather frustrated that she is blaming me for this spy thing.

"The Navy may need a finding to see the records from the hospital, but I don't and I can say that this report's description of what happened in the room when Associate Vas was killed is exceptionally accurate. The persons Seer Dnong expected to react to his announcement were the alleged MARC agent Lanai and Shawn Ryan. The fact that these two were not behind Jenk Gallen nor concerned about him is irrelevant. Without the two of them, and most probably just without Shawn Ryan, Dnong Whatever-his-name-is would not have been hunting for bear and had Jenk Gallen arrested."

"You are out of your mind," I breathe heatedly in her direction.

"Did not the Seer say, and I quote, 'ith asas' after he realized his expectation that you were in league with Gallen was wrong?"

I think back, "Yeah, I think he said something like that."

"You know he did. For the rest of you who may not know the Xi'An, 'ith asas' translates to 'I erred' or more appropriately, 'I was wrong'. If Ryan had not been involved with Dnong since their encounter at Hadur III, Dnong would not have thought he had enough proof to arrest Gallen. This entire mess is all Shawn Ryan's fault. I do not see any plan that rewards him for his part in it as politically viable."

I'm rather taken aback. Looking around the table, I'm not sure what the rest of them think. Captain Priest shakes his head a little and seems to chuckle darkly... but he says nothing.

Imperator Costigan asks quietly, "What would you propose we do with Ryan?"

"Suspend his flight licenses on medical grounds. Remove the threat he poses by making him worthless. He shouldn't be in space to cause any more trouble. Let him go back to his tea farm and be a farmer. He has taken a serious head injury, mark him unfit for space flight and restrict his ability to fly in atmosphere to passenger only. The Xi'An will accept he is not a value any more and move on. By doing this we can be sure they are not getting mixed messages... they will have nothing to go on but what you and the Senate tell them."

The Admiral glares at her, "This would be the same Senate that seems bent on forcing us to mobilize our reserve fleets along the border?"

The Senator matches her sneer and retorts, "If the Navy isn't ready, perhaps they need leadership that can get them ready."

"Enough!" Costigan orders and everyone but the dour eyed Senator looks his way; she seems to be gazing daggers and poison my way... and maybe even unadulterated hatred.

The Imperator says, "I have heard enough. Thank all of you for your input. The suggested courses of action are, as I understand them: rendition him, arrest him, draft him, or ground him. None of you agree on much of anything except that the use I wanted him for is unlikely to be reasonable. The authors of this report may have meant to give us another tool, but Ryan is obviously just unsuitable. I do have to consider that the Xi'An are pretty upset that we have held him, even though there have been medical reasons that he couldn't return to flight. Therefore, my decision is this: leave him working as he is with the Xi'An. It may settle their worries that we are starting a march towards war. Do not kidnap or torture him, do not attempt to steal him away or in any other way use him to further inflame the Xi'An's distrust of our government. Do all of you understand my decision?"

I don't think anyone is happy and most of them are staring at their hands... but they all nod.

"Ms. Amesly, would you escort Citizen Ryan back to his ship?"

"All the way back, or..."

"Take a shuttle, I want you back for a debriefing within the hour."

"Yes, Sir."

"Citizen Ryan," the Imperator finally addresses me, "Thank you for your time and perseverance though this little ordeal. I appreciate that you were at least willing to participate. Thank you." He nods to Ms. Amesly and she touches my arm as he concludes, "This meeting is adjourned."

"Mr. Ryan, let's go," Ms. Amesly instructs.

What a waste of time. The others in the room are rising and getting their materials together. I leave the glas Mr. Po had thrown my way and follow Ms. Amesly out the door. We turn down the long hallway and stride purposefully to the elevator.

Swish.

We step into the elevator's tiny compartment and she pushes a button... and we go up instead of down.


	18. Chapter 17 – Surprises

The elevator door opens onto a long Revel & York hangar with only a few craft in it. Near the far end is one of those space yachts, an 890 Jump. They are rather impressive craft, even at this distance. Must be some serious big-shot in for one of them to be cramped into a government building, bet they're going to be meeting with the Imperator.

Ms. Amesly strides past a common shuttle and a 300 series.

We keep walking.

Must be the Avenger... no, she is still walking.

"Nice stroll, Ma'am. Do I get a ride in the 890?" I ask with a touch of silliness, figuring that the shuttle we are to use must be in that last slot, completely hidden by the gleaming bulk.

She glances my way, but says nothing as she leads us across the blast tiles and past service holograms.

"That is some ship," I offer, trying to make even a semblance of conversation. "Any chance I could take a peek inside?"

I can't read her expression as she turns and looks directly at me. I realize quickly that an eye-glas has lit by her left eye and she seems to read something on that fancy little thing.

She smiles and says, "Citizen Ryan, you are the most curious person I know, my eight year old included. But yes, you may see the inside, as long as you promise not to tell anyone what you see."

What could it hurt to go along? "Sure, I promise."

Nodding, she replies, "Okay, come along."

There is an elevated ramp that takes us to the door, no climbing for the rich folks. As I approach, even its exterior skin is richly appointed, and there's not even a scorch mark on her.

I duck just a little out of habit as I pass the doorway.

"This way, Citizen Ryan," Ms. Amesly directs and proceeds through a short hall and into an opulent room worthy of a fine hotel. It is only after I've taken the few steps through the hall that I realize there are now two persons behind me. A quick glance shows a fearsome pair of Marines, an escort to just where, exactly?

Janice turns into a side room and...

"Hello again, Ryan," Imperator Costigan greets me.

"Um..."

"Speechless, I like that. I don't have time to say a whole lot, so keep it like that for a minute, okay?"

"Uh, yes... sir."

"Good. This report came from someone. I happen to have gotten one once before that was from that same someone. I know for a fact that what they told me then was accurate. Is this thing the truth as far as you know it?"

"I haven't read much of it, but from what everyone was saying, then yes, sir. It seems like MARC, or whoever they really are, gave you their file on me."

"I thought as much. If I ask, can I trust you to relay a message without guile or politics?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I want as many open lines of communication as I can get to help me solve this mess. I believe that you can be an honest broker, an additional piece. Will you do that if I ask it?"

"What about all that stuff you said just..."

He interrupts, "The things I said were to serve a couple of purposes. First, it showed me what those people really thought as they argued between themselves. Second, it gave me an excuse to stop all of them from acting along their own lines. You were probably only hours from having the Navy, the OES, or the Advocacy snatch you. Finally, none of them will believe you are someone I will turn to... and if they are being watched or are compromised by whomever is trying to start this war, then they won't try to take you out the way they already have one of my other back channels. You are a wild card, and I like having those to play when I can't see my opponent's cards in advance. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"The question still stands: If I need to ask you to, can I trust you to relay a message without letting your politics or personal opinion get in the way?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I need better than that. Your Empire needs better than that."

"Trying to go for my patriotism?"

He smiles and nods, "Yes, Citizen Shawn Ryan, I am."

His honesty shows through and suddenly I'm feeling rather gung-ho and rah-rah about the whole deal: The Imperator is asking me personally to serve the Empire in a dark and troubled time.

"Then I have to say, I'd be glad to assist in any way I can, sir."

He smiles, "Good. By the way, you aren't as old as my dad."

I chuckle, "Thanks for telling me."

Janice Amesly touches my arm and says, "It's time to go."

Confused, I ask Imperator Costigan, "Um, don't you have any orders or anything?" As he takes on an odd look, I hastily add, "Sir?"

He nods and answers, "Janice Amesly is your contact from now on. I seriously doubt we will be in direct communication again. If we are, it is only a dire emergency."

"Oh. But I thought..."

He interrupts, "I have set you up to be a secret liaison to the Xi'An, a back channel. Everything I do is watched and noted by many different parties, some of whom are smart enough to put two and two together. If we talk directly, it will compromise you... making you worthless to me. In fact, if you don't leave in the next minute of so, it may compromise you. Got that?"

I nod, it does sorta make sense. "Yes, sir."

"Then get out of here, TOG; you old grump," he says with what is clearly a grin.

"Yes, sir," I answer, not taking offense.

"This way," Ms. Amesly directs and we leave the craft as its engines fill the hangar with the din of heavy thrusters preparing for takeoff.

The shuttle that had been parked at the other end of the hangar is almost up against the ramp as we descend. its engines have it in a gentle hover and I note that the other two craft we had passed are also aloft. Seems odd to have them all inside with the hangar doors closed.

No sooner has the shuttle door closed than we are heading not outside, but back down the gallery to where the shuttle had been parked before. The Avenger and the 300 series both move into the smaller pads as we pass. Just before we reach the end landing zone, I hear the roar of the big Origin as it launches. Oddly, we settle onto our pad, parked much as the ship had been when we originally walked past. I glance out the window and see that the Avenger is launching, but that the 300 has parked next to us where it also originally was. The hangar door opens in front of us, revealing Prime in all its tumultuous grandeur. The Imperator is long gone and I wonder if the whole shifting thing wasn't just some kind of shell game to keep watching eyes from doing the kind of math the Imperator said would put me at risk.

…..

As the pilot steers the shuttle to my M50, Ms. Amesly hands me a small chip. "This will interface with your glas. Your instructions are encoded on it, but you must have a pilot's helmet headset connected for it to work. Do you understand?"

"I guess, but it seems odd."

"No, it is actually very sensible. Modern flight and combat helmets establish secure connections by default. The helmet connection is also one of the hardest to bug. This chip has an app that will further increase that security. The only thing you will need to be cautious about is not to repeat out loud what you see and hear. Do you understand?"

I nod, "Sure."

"You need to put it in your glas now, before we land."

"Oh, yeah, okay."

I try to do as instructed and realize that my glas is full; out of the three slots that take chips, one is occupied by my home backup, one has my musical favorites from the last millennia, and the last is my reading library. I guess the library can get put aside.

"Just a minute," I say, "Need to take one out."

She smiles knowingly, "I understand. I have a Tonkor 390XL with five slots and even though I'm almost always planet-side with the grid available I never have the space I need for these things."

"I don't think I've had to change chips since I started carrying the library... maybe eight... no, I guess it was only seven... standards ago."

"Really? You might consider an upgrade."

"Last I knew, those four chip models were pretty spendy."

"Not really. I can get you a good deal with a government discount."

An odd thought occurs to me, "Wouldn't that show that I'm working for you guys now?"

Her brows arch momentarily and she smiles, "Yes, Mr. Ryan, I guess that would."

I finish plucking the library chip out and add the new one. "May I at least have the case the old one came in? Don't want to mess this one up before I can put it somewhere."

She smiles and hands it to me, "That makes sense."

…..

"Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

I've just settled into the M50 and am glad for the familiar challenge from the even more familiar voice.

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

"You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

I smile and reply, "Bite m e, Duncan."

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"Good to be back, Duncan."

…..

It is already late afternoon when I leave Prime headed home to Torre Nor. I have been given a northerly flight path and am rapidly gaining altitude. Before me, towering thunderheads glow in the sunset. I climb further, well above the darkening clouds with their occasional electrical shows. I'm at twenty-five kilometers before I finally level off, just in time to lose the star-shine at the nighttime terminus. Below me, a huge bolt lights even the thin air around me as gigawatts arc over the anvil like a rainbow of pure energy.

…..

Now the high topped storms have given way to the vast darkness dotted with the lights of towns and hamlets. Above me, the deep blue has only wisps of atmosphere to diminish the stars... I'm not into space, but closer than I've been in what seems like forever. I can't stay up here very long if I want a gentle approach, but the plantation can wait just a little longer. I feel so at home up here, much more than even I'd ever sensed in the Big House.

Maybe I'm safer in the cockpit than I was before Captain Priest took out that 350 pilot, but I have to wonder... is all that trouble over now? Somehow, I doubt it.

…..

With the light amp on, I can see the plantation hangar long before I would otherwise. I have to admit that I'm smiling to myself as I recognize a Freelancer parked on one side of the pad in front. Maybe Jurdi is interested and wants to settle here. It might be nice to have a some one on one time to get to know her and see if anything happens.

I brake gently on approach and settle onto the reinforced concrete with minimal wash.

"Duncan, standard shutdown and security, please."

"Ya sure, you betcha," he grumbles with all the enthusiasm of a puppy when the ball is getting put away. I've got to hand it to Duncan's programmers, the response is perfect for the situation.

The engines and thrusters glow faintly with residual heat as the powerplant and its cooling system wind down. The cockpit glas connections autostow and only then remember that I need to connect my helmet to my mobi for the Imperator's message.

A chime in my ears tells me that the link is made and a woman's voice instructs me to wait while a security app loads.

"Ryan, I'm not going to waste either of our time right now," the serious visage of Imperator Costigan starts. "You are to meet with Athas Mgren as soon as you are cleared to fly zero g. When you do, tell her I will be making a speech on the problems with movement of farm labor between Mars and Earth. During that speech I will make the following statement. Quote: 'Indigent representation is imperative to allow both sides to constructively communicate; it isn't about a back channel, it is more a matter of building trust.' Repeat this to her word for word. I will know the date that you arrive at the Xi'An Embassy and will make the speech three standard days after. This is how you will be validated to them that I have indeed spoken with you and wish them to know you are trusted on my part. You must use exactly those words. The text of the speech I release before hand will not have them, only you and the Xi'An will know that they are coming."

A long color sequence appears and he continues, "To secure communications between yourself and any of our offices, use this sequence with OpSec set to 'highly paranoid'. The chip you were given with this communication on it is to be used for encrypting even if you need to use ship comms. Your code word is 'Indigent' unless you are told otherwise by Amesly or myself, and then only in person; use that word within the first fifteen seconds or the communication will be presumed to be compromised. Likewise, we will contact you with all the same protocols unless we meet in person."

His face grows more serious still, "Look, Ryan, you will be part of a team. You aren't the only one I'm trusting, but I also don't know if any of you are compromised... except maybe you... you're the fresh eyes on this project. If you see or hear anything you think could be important, let us know with the sequence we have assigned you. This is a dangerous job, but I believe you can live up to it. I also suspect the dangers you've faced lately are not over. All I can say is 'watch your back'."

The face disappears and I wonder what I've gotten myself into. Wryly, I note how many times in the last few months I've had the identical thought about things far less serious than this.

I lift my helmet and the connection with the mobi is lost. I release my restraints and touch the depress icon. As the hiss of the canopy sliding clear fades, I can see light in the back corner and I hear... well... it sounds like singing.

Down the ladder I go and only when I'm in the light from in back does the singing stop. I can see several people, and as I get closer, what almost look like children.

"Shawn! Welcome back!" Jurdi has risen to her feet and now I can see quite clearly that in addition to the woman there are indeed two small children, as well as a boy, maybe he's a teenager, but I'm not sure, and a robed figure.

My stride falters a bit but I continue into the light. The robed man turns and is soon obviously Brother Colum. The teen seems to be adopting something that might be a defensive stance, but the two little ones are now clinging to Jurdi as if shy or frightened. Am I all that imposing?

"Welcome back, Shawn," Brother Colum offers along with his hand; after a friendly fist-bump, he steps back to allow me to interact with the rest of my guests.

"Shawn," Jurdi begins, "These are my children: Rashid..." she pats the little boy on the head, "Jamila..." she indicates the little girl who is now rather hidden behind Jurdi's legs, "and the strong one is Bashir, my eldest."

I bow to the lot of them and say, "Good evening to all of you." I then hold out my hand to Bashir, who hesitates but finally steps forward for a fist bump. I try to smile as I recognize my dreams of spending quality time alone with Jurdi have just vanished like smoke in a hurricane.

…..

"Shawn," Brother Colum starts, "I need to get back to the Priory. I wanted to know if you need assistance with the management here while you rebuild the house?"

"I'm not really sure yet. I need to sort out the partnership Arron and Camilla had in the house."

"I understand. I do know of someone if you need them for a short term... say perhaps no more than a few weeks."

"Sure, send them over in the morning... or do you need me to go to them?"

"Let me see what we can work out and I'll have someone get back to you in the morning."

"Fair enough."

He casually bumps my fist, then addresses Jurdi and her small family, "It was a pleasure to meet each of you and spend some time together. May your stay here be restful and blessed."

"The same to you, Colum," Jurdi replies with a broad smile. Her children, I note, are to varying degrees not really as interested in the departing monk as they seem to be in me.

"Well," I'm rather unsure of what to say now, but I try anyway, "I'm glad you could stop by... um... what do you think of the place?"

"Needs a house," Bashir opines crossly before Jurdi can speak.

"Bashir!" Jurdi is incensed and Bashir responds as if he has been slapped. "Just saying, Mama."

"Show some courtesy!" Jurdi orders.

Bashir eyes me from under dark brows with something akin to loathing as he manages to say, "Sorry. Lots of plants."

Jurdi decides to address me, "I love how green and growing it is. Maybe not having a house right now is good, if we buy in..."

"Mama?!" Bashir is alarmed or I'm a fish.

Jurdi glances daggers his way and he bites his tongue while she continues, "As I was saying, if we buy in I can have the house built with our interests included."

Bashir addresses me suddenly, "Where do the tacks hold on?"

I have no clue, "Um, no offense, young sir, but I have no idea what you mean."

He frowns and rolls his eyes, "'Tacks'. People my age who are into Rarish dancing? 'Hold on'. Dance... well, actually it's just about Rarish dancing."

"Bashir is into Rarish dancing," Jurdi informs me before looking his direction and adding, "Though a mother might sometimes think a son who is gone dancing so much is not being responsible."

"Mama!"

"You know my thoughts."

"But not..." he says no more but I do detect him gesturing with his head in my direction.

I decide maybe it is best to change the direction this is heading and try, "I would offer you a nice meal, but I seem to be all out of anything worth the effort."

Bashir shrugs as if the last thing in the world he would want from me was food. The little ones don't seem to understand what I'm even talking about. Jurdi, however, smiles and replies, "Well, I'm not exactly prepared right now either, but I do have a bag of fresh fatayer... anybody want some?" The children brighten markedly and Jurdi looks to Bashir, "I have a bag that I made up this morning, would you do the honors and get it for me?"

"In the cooler?"

"Yes, thank you."

Smiling, the lanky teen turns positive and answers over his shoulder, "Got it," as he strides quickly away towards the 'Lancer's open accessway.

I admit my limited knowledge, asking, "What is it?"

"Bread, cheese, and a whole lot of secrets. Granted, I don't do it justice like Teita did, but it is still pretty good."

"I hope I get to try it some time."

"Well, if you don't leave, we have plenty to share."

"I can make tea if you folks like it. I have some jasmine oolong in the bins over there, last year's second flush but still pretty good."

"I would love some."

There is a small tasting station where plantation hands and my late managers used to make tea for themselves and any visitors interested in tasting the wares. I turn to this and after cleaning up some of the remaining debris from the explosion, I start a large pot. It gives me a minute away from the four of them to just try to get my bearings. This evening has not exactly gone well, no matter that it has definitely not gone as I expected.

Bashir returns with a bag and a small cooler just as the pot starts to whistle.

"Honey, sugar, 2sweet, or anything else?" I ask loudly enough that they obviously all hear.

"Cream! I like cream!" Jamila calls out, momentarily overcoming her shyness. "And honey!" she adds with a wide grin.

"Me, too!" Rashid calls out, not wanting to be outdone by his sister. "Cream and honey!"

"Bashir, would you like something, sir?"

"I've got milk," he states, again showing disinterest.

"But you hate milk," Rashid announces loudly.

"Hushhh."

"NO! Bashir HATES MILK!" Rashid all but screams in bold defiance and I see a flash of raw anger on the teen's face.

Jurdi must have also seen that and has moved between them, "Stop it, both of you! You dishonor me and your family! Stop now!"

Again, Bashir appears struck and Rashid sits back with his face screwed up into a titanic pout. The teen turns suddenly and heads for their ship.

"Tell you folks what," I offer, "Why don't I bring all the supplies I have and let you help yourselves to whatever?"

"That will be fine, Shawn," Jurdi replies.

I try to apologize, "Sorry about..."

"Don't be sorry. Bashir loves the city. He will probably wish to remain there if I move the rest of us to the country. He is almost a man, but is struggling to find out what it means to be one."

"Must be tough," I agree, hardly remembering myself at that age.

"He just needs some time to consider his behavior," she states while handing me what looks like a pastry.

"Mmmm," I reply with an entrancing bite filling my mouth.

Jurdi smiles.

My mobi chooses this moment to chime.

No face appears in the holo, but Duncan's voice is unmistakable, "Kree'Gna is calling ya, Shawn, on the secure ship comm."

I swallow my bite of... er... whatever this cheesy pastry is called, and answer, "Got it, mark a response code of 'coming to reply' please."

I note that little children seem entranced by my conversation and Duncan's rather irreverent tone of voice.

"Yeah, right. Marked. You gonna fly any time soon?"

"Tell the Doc I'm okay and I'll get right on it."

"Well, at least you have the sense to give me enough credit."

I close the link rather than get too involved with the many layers of banter programmed into Duncan.

"Excuse me," I say to Jurdi and her kids, "I need to take this one."

"We understand," Jurdi replies.

…..

"Ryan to Kree'Gna," I say from my seat in the wounded 350.

He must have his hand on the connection button, there is hardly any wait considering signal travel time; "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Are you ready to fly, my friend?"

"I need to get cleared by the doctor; it was scheduled for day after tomorrow, but I can probably get in tomorrow."

"I need to leave again within the next few hours."

"Well, it is probably too late for me tonight, most of the tests are only done during local day."

"Ah. I will make other arrangements," he sounds disappointed.

"Sorry, my friend. I understand if you must replace me."

"The one who flies with me in the interim is not very good on the throttle, I think he passed out on the last run while accelerating. It was very good we were not being tailed, he would never have regained consciousness before missiles would have gotten him."

"Sorry, but I have to be cleared or I won't have the confidence I need to take your wing."

"Fairly spoken. Please check in with the Embassy when you are able to fly, they may have you fly with someone else until I get back."

"Oh."

"Speak with Diplomat Mgren, she will know what is needed."

"As you wish, my friend."

"I hope to see you flying beside me again soon, Shawn Ryan."

"And I wish to be there soon also. I haven't spent this much time planetside in ages and I'm not at all sure I like it."

There is a smile in his voice, "I understand, Shawn Ryan."

"I knew you would, Kree'Gna. Anything else, my friend?"

"No, that is all. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

…..

"So," I begin after inhaling my third pastry thingy, "These things are pretty good."

"Fatayer. Just in case you didn't remember," she says with an unexpectedly sly smile as if she knows I can't. "It is a fatayer, r, fatayer."

Part of me is annoyed at her deciding to spell it out like I'm a child, but another part of me is grateful and I repeat it for her, "Fatayer?"

Jamila giggles as Jurdi replies, "Yes, you've got it. I make them with lamb some times, but the kids like the cheese ones better, so..." she shrugs and lets me reach the obvious conclusion.

…..

I notice that both younger children have nodded off; Jamila with her her arms around her mother and her head slumping against Jurdi's side, Rashid with his head in her lap.

"Well," I start quietly, "Are the lot of you planning to spend the night?"

Jurdi shakes her head as she looks towards the 'Lancer and answers in something barely above a whisper, "No, I think I'll fly us back to town. The kids have school tomorrow and I need to decide how to deal with some of our... dissension." She looks back at me as she continues, "I love the place, will love it more presuming I can have a say in how you rebuild. I'm not sure all of us are quite there yet... maybe there will be a holdout... we shall see. I do want in if you can straighten out the issues you have, I just may have to be a two residence woman for at least a while."

"Sure, works for me."

"I suspected you would understand."

I nod and hope I'm not being foolish.

Jurdi gently lifts the two small ones and makes her way to her Freelancer, shrugging off offers to help. "If it's okay with you, I'll just leave some of my stuff here so I don't have to cart it back and forth."

"Sure, no problem on my part, as long as it isn't likely to get blown away in a strong wind or be worth enough to tempt someone into liberating it.

"No problems," she answers with a grin. Darkness blankets them and I turn to the 350 to settle myself for the night.

"Hello, Shawn," a seductive voice says as I climb the stair. I would know that voice anywhere: Xin Po.

"Well, fancy finding you here. You must have just snuck in."

"You two seemed to be having a nice conversation, why complicate it?"

I stifle my impulse to be a wiseacre and simply say, "Indeed."

"Not even going to ask what I'm here for, are you?" she asks calmly.

I allow, "Well, I suspect it isn't for my sexual prowess."

She laughs darkly, "Hardly. I want to know what you said today."

"Why don't you ask your da?"

He isn't speaking with me and I've had my file access restricted."

"What?!"

"What did you say about me?"

"I didn't say anything about you. Priest and your shrink Lee were the only ones who mentioned you."

"Priest?"

"Captain. Navy Intel of some sort."

"Hmmm, what did they say?"

"Why don't you ask them?"

"I'm asking you."

"And I've been told not to say anything about the meeting."

Xin draws a small ballistic sidearm with an obscene bore and repeats herself, "What did they say?"

"That cannon will break your wrist when you kill me."

"I won't kill you, but it will definitely destroy your manhood," she replies while the aim sinks to my loins.

I consider the ice in her veins and decide that perhaps I can risk sharing some of the rather irrelevant parts of today's meeting, "Lee thinks I seduced you so convincingly that you've flipped to whatever side I'm really on. She has an active imagination."

The weapon lowers, then sinks to her side. "Puchast!" she swears with a look worthy of a jilted lover.

"What's the big deal? No one believes her."

"My father does," she says with marked disgust. "He trusts her a lot more than he does me."

"Then he isn't as smart as I gave him credit for."

She glares my way and shakes her head. "Why would she think you had flipped me?"

"Captain Priest sarcastically suggested that for me to have..." it occurs to me that Xin doesn't know about the MARC report and I need to choose my words carefully, "well..."

As I remain silent, Xin seems to know that I've reached some kind of limit. "They suspect you of having gotten hold of my report for your file?"

"Worse, of having given it to someone else."

"Oh..." She nods and asks, "It was MARC, wasn't it?"

"Your da doesn't..."

Interrupting, she sneers, "He doesn't believe they exist. After my first find that one time, everything has looked legitimate... but they really are what you described, aren't they?"

"I don't lie. And with respect to MARC, I didn't even leave things out."

"Vas had only filed one brief before she died, she mentioned a woman named 'Lanai'; is she actually MARC?"

"Well, she was. Gloria came for her that night. Not sure if she got in trouble or not."

Xin seems to come to some decision, her expression changes drastically. "I would like to talk with them."

"Who?"

"MARC."

"I don't know how to get in touch with them."

"They monitor you, correct?"

"Yeah, that seems to still be true."

"Okay, I want them to know that I might have something of value to them."

"They are probably listening right now."

For a moment, I'm not sure that she heard me, then she starts, "Gloria or whomever from MARC is listening, I am Xin Po, Associate of the Office of Executive Services. If you have any interest in having a new employee and you can promise me more interesting assignments than just laying around and seducing people brought to me, then I want in. I'm tired of being just a tool, I have a one-forty-seven IQ and two masters degrees. Put me to work. Shawn here will know how to contact me."

I'm rather shocked at this turn of events, but her voice has hardly died when her mobi chimes.

"Yes?" she answers. She obviously has an implant; I can't hear anything but she is listening intently to something... her eyes even close. "Yes, I can be there."

Another silence. Seconds pass. A minute.

"I'll be there. Thank you."

Her eyes open, she focuses on my face, and an honest smile develops, "Jix! They really are listening to you."

"I aim to please," I say, but in all honesty, my eyes slip a little down her figure.

"Sorry, Shawn, but that's not something you need concern yourself with."

"Oh."

She smiles, "Stick to the single mom, I bet she would be glad of it."

"I don't even know if she's interested."

"Two of those kids are her kid sister's. Her late kid sister."

"Oh." I wonder if I should know this, or if it's better to let Jurdi tell me. "Please don't tell me anything more. If she wants to tell me, I want her to do it."

Xin cocks her head a bit to one side, "You like her, don't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Have a good evening, Mr. Ryan." Xin turns and is out the ship's hatch before I can say another word.

…..

"Torre Nor D2, Doctor Harrington's office," the bright young face in the mobi holo asserts.

From my perch overlooking winding rows of tea bushes, the morning air momentarily distracts me.

"Sir?"

"Oh, yeah... I'm Shawn Ryan. I'm due in tomorrow for a skull fracture test."

"Um, do you know what... oh, I have it. You have a Cranial Integrity Assessment at 1400 followed by a Flight Clearance Eval with Dr. Harrington. Do you need to reschedule?"

"Yeah, is there any way to move it up to today?"

"Um..." she seems to be studying something, "Let me check with Lisa, they might have had a cancellation. Will you hold?"

"Sure."

The young woman's face vanishes, replaced by what I can only assume are vids of someone's kittens. Hmmm, there are a lot of kittens, doing what seem to be rather stupid stunts, accompanied by or sometimes coreographed to annoying music, but I really don't have to watch and the sound isn't blaring... (sigh).

The girl is back, "Mr. Ryan? Lisa says that they had a 1130 cancellation, but Dr. Harrington won't be able to see you until almost 1430. Does that work for you?"

I wonder if it is worth rushing around, just to sit and wait. Kree'Gna is probably already gone and I still haven't heard from Brother Colum. Hmmmph. Decisions, decisions.

"Otherwise, you can still come in as scheduled tomorrow," she states the obvious.

"You know, I think I'll just do tomorrow and take it easy here today."

"Okay," she says with a perky expression. "Um, is there anything else you need, Mr. Ryan?"

"Nah, that'll do. Thanks."

…..

A rather lanky looking man in simple but clean work clothes is loping up the hillside using a trail that my pickers normally use. I'm sure I don't know him, but right now I figure someone walking in plain sight is either not here to kill me or deserves his shot. As he closes on the bench I occupy, it becomes apparent that he is not so much lanky as really tall, probably as close to two meters as any human I've ever met. He seems to move smoothly, perhaps I should worry that this is an assassin after all...

"Mr. Ryan?" he calls before he is within twenty meters.

"Guilty as charged."

Now he is certain it's me and steps confidently my way. I have this odd feeling that I have seen his face, but I'm sure it is just someone similar.

"Brother Colum said you might have a task for me."

I am once again surprised. "Well, if you mean managing the plantation until I've gotten replacements..." he nods as I speak, "... well, then I guess I do."

He extends his massive right paw... er... hand towards me and states simply, "I'm Dean Olivian."

That name rings a bell, and my expression must indicate my mental search for the reason, because he continues, "Yes, that Dean Olivian."

"Well, I guess I'm not quite up to speed yet, I'm still trying to remember where..."

"SATAball?"

"Ohhhh... the center for that really good Earth team back in the early thirties?!"

"Yup, took the trophy in '31 and '33." He pauses and his expression changes to one almost of sorrow with his eyes downcast. "Sorry, I'm still learning this stuff. I guess this isn't exactly what you expected, right?"

"Well, no, but I bet there's a great story behind it."

He chuckles, "Yeah, there is a story, but maybe that should wait. What about your job?"

"Well, have you ever managed a tea plantation?"

"No, but I had a cocoa plantation for five years that I ran myself." His countenance falls again, "Lost it in the second divorce."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He shrugs as if it didn't matter, but his eyes belie that.

"Well," I start, "Let's begin with a walk around...

…..

Jurdi's Freelancer seems to be on approach, though from where Dean and I stand near the rolling shed I have to wonder if there are stabilizer problems of some sort; that or Jurdi may need some refresher piloting classes... not that I would want to be the one to break it to her.

Dean seems to have the same opinion. "You expecting someone that flies drunk?" he asks with a bemused tone that also advertises disdain.

"Well, that 'Lancer belongs to a friend who may become a business partner... but I hope she hasn't been drinking."

He looks at the unsteady landing and back at me, "Yeah, me too. Maybe we should move clear though... just in case."

The big craft strays a bit towards my M50 and I start to wonder if I should have parked it under shelter last night. At the last possible moment, the trajectory corrects and she is suddenly landing with grace the previous motions lacked.

…..

After what seems like a short forever, the main access opens and four disembark, led by Bashir. I have to admit that he seems to be in a better mood than last night. Dean and I walk towards the small family

Bashir's eyes grow into saucers and his jaw unhinges. "Dean Olivian?!" he asks in a loud voice that borders on worshipful.

Beside me, the big man grins and smiles. To me he comments, "See, a lot of people still recognize me."

"You okay with that?" I ask, remembering some of his comments earlier.

His brows knot a bit, then Bashir runs up and demands attention. "IT IS YOU!" he shouts as if we were both stone deaf, "Dean Olivian! Mama! This is Dean Olivian! For REAL!" He looks back at Dean who now towers above him, "Can I bump your fist? Um, Sir?"

The paw extends and Bashir's little mitts seem like a kitten's next to a full grown somal.

"Dean," I say kindly, "This is Bashir."

The teen nods and the ex-center says, "Pleased to meet you, Bashir."

"I STILL remember the spike you got from the third barrier," Bashir exclaims, "That was poetry in motion!"

The big man smiles, "Yeah, caught Billy Salls out of position, that was a lucky shot."

"Skill and skill alone!" Bashir insists and I see Dean smile at the praise.

Jurdi arrives with the wee ones and before I can introduce them, Bashir bursts out, "Mama, this is Dean Olivian!"

"He the one you used to have the poster of?"

"Yeah, the one from the '31 New Yorkers."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Olivian."

Dean seems momentarily speechless and simply holds her gaze.

I try to break the spell, "Dean, this is my friend and potential partner, Jurdi Abboud."

"Enchanted, Ma'am," Dean says in an entirely different tone of voice.

Jurdi seems interested in Dean as well... this is not exactly going according to plan.

"Jurdi?" I ask, managing to finally break the connection between them.

"Yes, Shawn?"

"I was wondering if we need to have someone take a look at you ship, it seemed not to respond very..."

Angrily, Bashir snaps, "I was flying it, okay? I'm still learning, okay? I'm SORRY, OKAY?!"

Now it makes sense, Jurdi wasn't intoxicated, she was second seat letting Bashir fly, at least until he almost hit my M50.

She gives him an angry look easily the match for his own and I see him glance up at Dean. Towering above him is a disappointed disapproving look and Bashir is suddenly the sullen lad I met last night. He stomps off towards the ship, daggers flying in every look my way.

"I'm sorry you had to see him like that, Mr. Olivian," Jurdi says quietly.

"Please, Ma'am, call me Dean."

I get the feeling that I need to be cleared to fly again... soon.


	19. Chapter 18 – Back in the Saddle

"Well, what's the verdict, Doc?" I ask Doctor Harrington as he ushers me into his office after much too long in their testing lab, torture chamber, whatever.

"I've been reviewing the guidelines for flight release, not being a flight surgeon myself, and I think you can give it a try if you are willing to accept a few risks and follow some of these advisories."

"Like what?"

He drags something off of the main glas on his desk and onto the big wall glas. It is obviously associated with the Navy, but the document is also marked with the Office of the Aerospace Surgeon General's seal.

Doc Harrington stands and points to something high on the list, reading it off as if I couldn't do so myself. "Pilots who have suffered skull fractures and/or traumatic brain injuries are to be strongly advised to load their PESP (Personal Eject Survival Package) with DSML (commonly called 'MUD') instead of ALDL (commonly called 'Antifreeze') to increase survivability. This should be maintained for at least a month or until the fracture is completely stable." He looks at me with what might actually be uncertainty, "Without spending a lot of time reading so I can try to explain this, do you already know what it means?"

I laugh in an understanding manner and decide to save him the time, "Yeah, Doc, I got that one."

"Can you explain it to me... without taking a lot of time?"

"Sure, MUD and Antifreeze are options to increase our survivability odds out there..." I point at the ceiling, "... when our ship gets shot out from underneath us and we get to see the Banner with only our helmets in front of our faces." I turn down the collar of my flight suit and show the small package that normally rides on top of my jugular vein. "This thing will air inject me with a complete dose if I eject."

"Oh. I see."

"I use MUD anyway, Antifreeze is for the Navy and other fighter jocks who accept the trade-offs."

He looks interested and says, "Go on."

"The way it was explained to me, MUD is based on the formula that cryo sleepers got hundreds of years ago. It is slow acting, takes more than a minute before your eyes close, when they recover you they have to flush your bloodstream for a couple days to get you to a state even resembling awake, and it is easily a week before you can fly again... but, and these are a huge in my opinion, you can survive even if your suit is ruptured or you are injured... plus, you stay in stasis until you are picked up. You can float there for a month and have no more ill effects than if you were picked up in ten minutes.

"In contrast, Antifreeze is very fast acting, by the time you've ejected clear of your wreckage you are out cold... almost literally. It rapidly allows your body to bleed heat and in a minute or so, it is much harder to spot your rapidly cooling body on an IR sweep, and once they've cleaned you out you can be combat ready in less than 24 hours."

"So that's why the Navy uses it?"

"Yeah, pretty much. In fact they count on some of its limitations as good things. For example, the stasis really isn't a deep freeze, if you aren't pulled in within twenty-four hours, you're dead. Also, unlike MUD where you keep your own blood and they cleanse your body as you thaw, with Antifreeze they have to replace your blood altogether. That is great if a Naval S&R MedEvac is close, but it also works to keep stranded pilots from becoming prisoners. One problem they can't ease is what the pilots call 'Freezer Burn', a massive headache that lasts for a day or so after you wake. I've seen pilots crying from it."

"Wow, I'm kinda glad I stayed planet-side."

"You've never been out of system?"

"Never been out of atmosphere."

"Oh. Wow. Want a ride some time?"

He smiles, "Maybe when you don't have people trying to blow you up or shoot you in front of me."

"Sorry about that."

"It wasn't your fault... was it?"

"Not on purpose."

I'm not sure if his expression is a strained smile or a grimace. "I think I'll keep my feet on Terra firma for now. Have you ever needed that stuff?" he concludes, with a gesture at my throat.

"Four times, last one just over ten standards back."

"I'll never understand why you do it, seems insane to me."

I shrug, "Fair enough. What else should I consider?" As he turns back to face the document, I wonder to myself if maybe he is right... maybe I am certifiable.

…..

There is a gentle sense to a spacecraft when it is station-keeping while in low orbit. Velocity needs only the occasional correction as momentum pretty much rules the day. I'm high above the planet, just passing over New Austin for the second time... not doing anything crucial other than needing to see the stars up close again.

I've still got to sort out the mess with Jurdi and decide if I want Dean to hold down the fort while I'm away. I hate to admit it, but she looked at him like I wish she would look at me. Well, I should never have let myself imagine that I would have more place in her life than perhaps a partnership.

For that matter, now that I'm cleared to fly again, I should be calling Athas Mgren with my status. I guess I really just need a few minutes to myself up here with the grav off and the lights dimmed all the way down. The Great Banner is spectacular above the M50's arched dome... I really do feel like I could reach out my hand and run my fingers through that glowing sand overhead.

Reality finally sets in as my orbit again fits the landing pattern back down to the Torre Nor uplands and my plantation. I wish I could just sit here, but another half hour will just make it dark when I get back. As the cockpit glas brighten, the ALS blinks with approach vectors and the proper reentry landing sequence to follow. I fire reverse thrust and add a looping bank to further bleed off the speed; the retros push me firmly into my seat while I feel the centrifugal gravity grow. Between the forced plumes of plasma and the wide corkscrews, I swiftly drop from nearly 25,000kph to a mere 800, falling below the sonic barrier before I straighten out to fly the rest of the way to my pad.

…..

"Ah, there you are, Shawn," Brother Colum is the first to rise as I walk from the ship into my hangar.

"Good evening, Brother Colum."

"Mr. Ryan, welcome back," Dean Olivian says, also rising.

"Mr. Olivian," I reply, though I'm rather unsure what my tone reveals about my underlying thoughts.

Jurdi rises slowly, though perhaps having two snoozing little ones curled up against her is part of the reason. I don't see Bashir, but can't help being wary of an unannounced appearance. "Shawn," she acknowledges as she finally reaches her feet.

"Ms. Abboud," is out before I realize it; chill enters her expression... and maybe a bit of confusion shows in Brother Colum's as well. At least Dean seems to have missed it... for now.

"Shawn," Brother Colum says, "We were trying to divine your desires about Dean helping out for the next few weeks... but we haven't really got any ideas. Care to enlighten us?"

Jurdi's eyes move from me back to Dean, then return to my face. She has such an open honest face, I just wish my decision didn't involve probably losing her... er, no, that isn't true, is it? She really isn't mine to lose. But if I hire Dean to stand in, I suspect I'm basically putting the two of them together and it feels like I'm losing her just when I had let myself imagine the impossible.

"May I speak privately with you, Shawn?" Brother Colum asks.

"Yeah, sure," I reply while turning back towards the growing darkness.

We walk to the slope's brow and look down to the tea plants that fall away before us in their ranks and rows. I can smell the distant sea on the wind; it brings a wish for life to have been different... but it can never be: I will never be young again, nor have the chance to choose a life different than the one I've already lived. Brother Colum seems to know that I war within and he lets me stand in silence.

Finally, "Shawn, may I ask what troubles you so?"

"You can ask."

"But you may decide not to answer?"

"Something like that."

"May I ask if it has something to do with Jurdi?"

I glance over at the man and wonder if an answer is worth the air it would take to give it. "Perhaps," is all I let escape.

"And perhaps it also has to do with Dean?" I can tell that he sees something in my expressions; it is obvious that he knows as he asks, "Shawn, does the young woman know of your interest?"

I want to snap at him and interrogate to find out just what business it is of his... but my better self speaks up first, "No. She might have guessed, but no, I've never told her."

"Do you know that her faith is such that she would be unlikely to wish to be unequally yoked?"

"What?"

"Jurdi Abboud is a Believer, a Christian. Evangelical, I would guess; not nearly as different from we Catholics since our biggest differences have been resolved over the centuries... but unless I miss my guess, you are not a Christian of any sort."

"So?" escapes me before I can think the question through.

"She will probably take the admonition not to be unequally yoked very seriously."

"I still don't get the plowing allusion."

"There is a gulf between you that you can not understand."

"Because I'm too old?"

He chuckles, "No, because she knows a different point of view." I think he knows I'm about to protest, so he continues with hardly any pause, "Imagine describing the thrill of space flight out under the Banner to someone who has always lived planet-bound. Would they understand, even if they knew all the details and had seen starry nights from say this spot in the Torre Nor?"

"Of course they wouldn't understand, but what has that got to do with..." My voice trails off. Even if I don't understand, maybe it isn't worth the frustration. "So, you brought Dean here to meet Jurdi? Is he one of her kind?"

Brother Colum laughs, a genuine laugh, not contrived or forced... jolly is the word I think I want. "Shawn, it was not only not my thought, it may be an unfortunate choice for him as well."

"She is a good woman," I say somewhat defensively.

"No, I don't mean that. You see, Dean is a postulate, someone who came to the Abbey to join our order. He was sent to us in Weymouth because the Abbot knows I'm a sucker for hard luck cases."

"Come again?"

"Dean was a SATAballer, pretty good one, too, or so I hear. That means he has developed an unfortunate mountain of pride, something that is a liability. You see, a Franciscan Friar is expected to model humility. Dean is struggling with wanting to change his life from the wreck he made of it, and we are praying that he will be able to meet a challenge like your plantation manager job without reverting to the person he was before he came to us. I chose to send him to you because I believe that there is something special about your circumstance here and think it will help him decide."

"So you want me to give him the job even though the two of them are making eyes at each other."

He seems to be looking through me. "You can not lose what is not yours, Shawn."

"How would you know?"

He avoids my answer, "Did you not feel affection for Camilla, even though she was Arron's wife?"

Angrily, I start to respond, "I didn't do..."

He interrupts deftly, "I'm not suggesting you did anything improper, Shawn. But did you not feel a family bond that was wounded when she passed on?"

I look him in the eye; he is asking the obvious to help me realize just how obvious it is. "Yes, I guess so."

"You may feel the same if Jurdi becomes involved with another man. It does not mean you were meant for her nor that your affection is somehow foolish, just that she can be important like Camilla was."

"I don't understand."

"I know."

We both fall silent as a distant thunderhead flashes with a massive lightning-bolt. I hold my breath waiting for the sound, but none ever comes.

…..

Reality can be depressing. I know I need someone to manage the place for a while, if it weren't for Jurdi being here, I wouldn't hesitate to take Dean's assistance. I guess I need to do the right thing, even when it seems to come with a large probability for personal pain.

"Dean?" I begin. He looks up and I continue, "I guess if you are willing, I'll take you up on the temp management bit."

"Jix! Um, Sir. Mr. Ryan."

"Shawn."

"Shawn," he says with a grin.

"I'll need to make arrangements for where you will sleep..."

"No," he interrupts, "I'm staying at the priory."

I feel a hair's breadth of relief, "Oh... well, okay." Remembering Brother Colum's issues with mobis, I ask, "Do you still have your glas?"

He pulls out an exceptionally fancy one and rather sheepishly answers, "Yeah, still do."

I pull mine out and ask, "Can I drag you an account access?"

He smiles "Sure, this thing..." he seems to notice Brother Colum and his voice trails off. "Yes, sir, let me bring up a blank to put it on."

His glas shimmers to life just as my own does. As his fingers dance through some holo sequence, I log in to my accounts and pull up a management screen. He steps closer and I drag a moderate level of access onto his glas. He looks it over and nods.

"That look good enough for you to manage payroll and keep things rolling in and out?" I ask, wondering if this is really all that wise a move... conveniently ignoring the fact that I had hired Camilla for the same job with many of the same reservations.

"This should work, Shawn," he replies confidently. "Thanks for giving me the chance."

I look over at Brother Colum and wonder which of us has actually given him anything.

Jurdi has walked up without my noticing. "Congratulations, Mr. Olivian," she purrs and I'm again at war with myself.

I glance Brother Colum's way and see that he is watching me. I nod and turn back towards the M50.

"Shawn?" Jurdi calls and I discover her running up behind me.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Got a minute? I need to ask you some things."

"Yeah, I guess," is my answer, even though I'm sure I will hate all the questions.

"You still okay with me being a partner?"

I shrug, "Guess so."

I think she is trying to look under my skin at what I really think inside. That or she is trying to understand my body language; maybe she suspects that I'm not saying everything.

"Shawn, may I ask you a personal question?"

I nod.

"Have you ever married?"

With an immense well opening up inside, I shake my head 'no'.

She follows up with, "Why?"

Again I shrug, "Maybe no woman would have a footloose vagabond more in love with the stars than with her."

"I see. One more, please forgive me for prying, but are you a Christian?"

I shake my head and imagine I see her expression fall with a hint of disappointment. "No problem. You don't mind having a partner who is, do you?"

"No. You gotta believe what you have to believe. Camilla and Arron were Christians, I guess. It never was an issue." I don't mention the surprise I felt when I discovered that Christians even existed out here, much less that Camilla and Arron both were members... or whatever the term is.

"Is that where you know Brother Colum from?"

"Not directly, they were friends with Brother Patrick. From the same place. Um, Priory."

Quietly, she says, "I see."

"I met Brother Colum while I was in the hospital." I glance towards the empty space where the big house stood not that long ago.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Shawn." She waits until I look back at her and then says, "Look, I still want in if that is okay with you."

Once more I shrug. "Yeah, sure."

She looks at me as if she knows there is a lot more I'm not saying, but then she says, "Okay. I'll be glad to listen if you want to say whatever."

I nod and she tries again to look into my soul.

I blink and she suddenly turns away to rejoin the children.

…..

"Shawn Ryan calling the Xi'An Embassy."

The cockpit is silent as I wait for the reply. I've always spoken with Kree'Gna, I'm not even sure what the protocol is for calling a Diplomat.

The stillness breaks, "Officer Dall Klack to Shawn Ryan. How may we assist you?"

"Kree'Gna ordered me to report to Diplomat Mgren as soon as I was cleared to fly. I am doing as instructed."

Again, the wait as my signal bounces off a high orbit communications satellite and out to the Embassy. The time is doubled for round trip, plus time for...

"Shawn Ryan, I am to request that you come to the Embassy in person for your next mission. Diplomat Mgren will speak with you here."

"I'll be off the ground in fifteen stamin."

I touch the options and the M50 comes to life. Glas for the checklist insistently reach out on flimsy seeming arms awaiting my attention and approval. The powerplant comes to life and each thruster blows a breath of exhaust.

Over near the light, Jurdi, Dean, and Brother Colum are talking. I think I see them look my way, but I'm not sure. I haven't seen Bashir and guess that this evening I've lucked out on dealing with that problem. I have no clue how I'll ever talk with that lad, or if he'll ever have a nice word for me. I touch the throttle and I see Jurdi raise her hand to wave goodbye. Camilla used to do that some times; I'm not sure how I feel about Jurdi doing it... especially when Dean is all but standing next to her. My craft rises and the hangar rapidly obscures the trio.

Ahead are the stars... and the sense that I'm coming home.

The throttle responds with my heart and I soar rapidly to the higher reaches of Terra's thin blue blanket. Here at the border of air and space I ease off for a moment, just to wonder if what I told Jurdi is really true... do I love flying out here more than I ever could love a woman? Part of me feels a deep inconsolable loss knowing that it is indeed true, but above me the siren call of the Great Banner beckons me to cast off my yearnings and push my limits yet again.

(sigh) Maybe it is better to do than let emotions I don't understand try to tie me to things I will never have.

Throttle up. I feel the reassurance of acceleration G's pull me into my seat's gentle embrace. The harness snugs up and I'm flung headlong into the black womb of space.

…..

"Shawn Ryan is calling the Xi'An Embassy."

I'm floating before the grand tumble of the Xi'An Embassy, letting it eclipse the starlight streaming from Terra itself.

"Officer Dall Klack to Shawn Ryan. You are cleared to dock in the third tier at the far left. The doors are opening now and you should see the landing glyphs you need to follow. At twenty meters, please assume station keeping until we tractor you in."

"Yes, Dall Klack, I see them and will do as instructed."

"Please remain in your craft upon landing until security has indicated you may enter the platform."

"Very good, sir. Landing initiated. Thank you."

Directional thrusters move me to the proper plane, and I'm soon floating motionless before the open bay door. A slight tug as the tractor beam aquires me and I'm gliding forward. Under the station's control, my ship enters, then turns to face out as the massive doors close. Blinking glyphs indicate caution, the few I can read are about danger if lit... or something along those lines.

The doors close and the ground crew approaches with quite a number of the well armed equivalent of our Marines in tow.

While several seem to poke around with odd little devices, I bring up the Imperator's instructions and work on memorizing them. His face repeats it with me, "Indigent representation is imperative to allow both sides to constructively communicate; it isn't about a back channel, it is more a matter of building trust."

There is a tapping sound on the dome beside my head and I look to see a powerfully build Xi'An is obviously trying to get my attention with the business end of some beam weapon. I peel my helmet off and open the canopy. He steps back a bit on what appears to be a maintenance platform.

"Slath! (Move!)," he orders; I release my harness and obey. Before I can even reach the deck, I'm being swept by what must be their most powerful scanners... I would swear that my body tingles as their wands sweep past.

Finally, a familiar character appears; Ksan Ko'Kree's lizard-like face rises above the platform as he ascends the stairs. He glances my way, then converses with the officer in charge. Were I to guess, either he is annoyed or frustrated by what he hears.

He turns my way says simply, "Leave your weapon in your ship, then you will follow me." No pleasantries, no courtesy, just the order.

I try not to appear offended and do as instructed.

…..

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. We are delighted that you have recovered and returned to honor our persons with your presence."

"Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren. Mahhragna ith ilxag," I reply with a proper (I think) bow.

Ksan Ko'Kree heads for the corner he occupied the first time I saw him, I wonder if he has gizmo's over there that make observing more suited to intel gathering... or maybe he has stuff that works like a lie detector... I'll probably never know.

Diplomat Mgren, however, rises from her seat and walks my way, "How are you, Shawn Ryan? The last time I saw you, you appeared very shaken by the shootout in your room."

I chuckle a bit, then remember my manners, "Yes, Diplomat Mgren, I was rather unsettled by the situation. I'm doing better now..." I glance over at Ksan and note he is studying me from under heavy lids, "At least I think I'm doing better. I have a message for you and His... um... Excellency?"

"The His Imperial Highness? Emperor Kray?"

"Yes, Ma'am." My voice falls so hopefully she is the only one to hear me, "From Imperator Costigan himself."

Her look is appraising. Now it is her turn to cast her eyes in Ksan Ko'Kree's direction. He catches the look and seems surprised... he was not expecting it and it brings some amount of worry to his expression.

"Ksan, I need you to find Diplomat Leelk. Please escort him here personally."

The Seer looks quickly my way and then steps swiftly out of the room."

"You may continue," she instructs.

"The Imperator will be making a speech on Earth in three days about some issues between Earth and Mars... I forget what. He will say, 'Indigent representation is imperative to allow both sides to constructively communicate,' … um... there is more, just a moment... er... 'It isn't about back channels, it's about building trust.' I think that is right, may I put on my helmet and replay his orders? He thinks it is important that I get the words just right."

"Yes, Shawn Ryan."

"Thank you." I pull on the helmet, find the order, and repeat it as he says it, "Indigent representation is imperative to allow both sides to constructively communicate; it isn't about a back channel, it is more a matter of building trust."

Pulling the helmet back off, I look at her and finish, "The Imperator said that these words will not be in any printed version of his speech released before he has actually spoken. He is doing this because he wants to validate that I'm now available for either His Imperial Majesty or The Imperator to have another back channel to communicate through."

"Shawn Ryan, I thank you for telling me this. I fear that forces are moving that may make this offer important. I will evaluate this and we will watch to confirm that what you have said is true. I presume I may share this with Diplomat Leelk and Emperor Kray."

"Athas Mgren, I must trust you to share this with those who must know." I think of Dnong and add, perhaps too hastily, "I suspect there are those on your side who might not want me in..."

Uncharacteristically, she interrupts, "Ah, here is Diplomat Leelk himself!" Then almost too quietly to hear she adds, "Say no more."

Diplomat Leelk walks with a calm grace that I rarely see in our government types. I could say he flows across the floor as accurately as I can say he walks the distance. At first, I'm sure he sees me, then I realize that he is focused on Athas and I have to wonder if the initial impression wasn't an illusion.

"Torsi Leelk, Shē'sueren." She continues in rapid Xi'An and I can't follow. I do note that his eyes play in my direction for a moment, but his attention returns to Diplomat Mgren.

"Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren," he replies after she has finished. He, too, speaks in Xi'An, though with a lot less emotion expressed.

Finally, as he looks evenly in my direction, I get the awful sense that he is a murderous poker player: I can't be sure I see anything in his body language or face. I offer a bow and try to remember my Xi'An protocol for greeting a higher ranking person with whom I'm not already acquainted.

I'm saved by Athas' introduction, "Diplomat Leelk, please see Imperial Contractor Shawn Ryan."

He bows my direction and then she addresses me, "His Imperial Majesty, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray has sent Diplomat Leelk to serve as his voice to the UEE. Please recognize our Emperor in his servant."

Again, I'm sure there must be some proper way to respond, but I sure don't know it. He waits for a moment, then seems to recognize my hesitation, "Contractor Ryan. Seer Ksan has told me much about you." There is no hint of what that could mean, but I am sure it was not what I expected him to say. Indeed, much as his appearance is expressively neutral, so now his voice is, too. I feel rather less at ease than I would prefer. Again, he waits.

"Diplomat Leelk, please forgive me for not knowing the proper greeting for the Emperor's voice."

He nods and says, "We will share that knowledge with you. For now, let it be enough that we have acknowledged each other."

"Yes, Sir."

"You are not as tall as you appeared in your hospital bed."

"Um... please... um..." What should I say? I sure don't know, so I just shrug and say, "Yes, sir."

There is a hint of wrinkle at the corners of his eyes. Without looking over his shoulder at the intel officer, he says something I don't understand... but Ksan Ko'Kree nods and replies in equally indecipherable Xi'An.

"You are not accustomed to this type of meeting."

"No, Sir."

He glances towards Athas, then back at me, "I understand that Seer Dnong has a very strong opinion about you."

I smile ruefully and nod just enough to confirm this before he continues.

"I also understand that my deputy," here he looks at Athas Mgren and almost smiles before looking back my way, "Is at least equally emphatic in her assessment of your value to our courier Kree'Gna and hence the whole Xi'An Empire."

He pauses, obviously awaiting some response on my part. I'm not at all sure what to say, but my gut tells me to just be myself and let things work out that way.

I reply with a grin, "Yes, sir. I enjoy being Kree'Gna's wing. He's a real credit to your Emperor."

Just a hint of a nod before he speaks, "I understand your affiliation with us has cost you your home. Is this true?"

"Well, there is some suspicion that things have gone badly because of that, but I don't know that for sure, sir."

"You are not associated with Jenk Gallen, are you?"

"No, sir."

He nods. "The trial is going to go ahead."

Again, I don't know what to say. "I guess greater persons than myself decide those things, sir."

"You have no opinion?"

I shrug and admit, "I don't know the person. I'm sorry that everyone seems to be getting upset and I worry about all the saber rattling... but I'm just little people, matters of state aren't my brief."

"If they were?"

How can I answer and still leave room for whatever role Imperator Costigan has in mind for me? Finally, I try, "Considering how Byzantine politics in the UEE are, I'm not sure my opinion would matter unless I were the Imperator."

He nods and I get the sense that the meeting is over as he speaks with Athas Mgren. Ksan Ko'Kree is eying me with something that might be interest... or he might be hungry.

Unexpectedly, Diplomat Leelk looks back at me and announces, "Kree'Gna will not be back for at least four days. We have a craft that will be running to Earth in six hours, I am assigning you to run with its guard detail."

"Yes, Sir."

…..

"Shawn Ryan, you need to wake up and get ready to FLY!" Duncan Fisher announces loudly enough to wake the dead... or me from my nap. I'm in one of the sparse 'ground' rooms in the Embassy; it is spartan by even the most ascetic human standards, but I've been able to recline and use a flight jacket as a pillow to sleep. I can take a quick potty break down the hall before the endurance run to Earth in my M50.

"You awake yet?!" Duncan's voice booms from my mobi and I wonder if I'm letting him wake others nearby.

"I'm awake, Duncan."

The volume comes down markedly, "Good, I was concerned that you'd gone into hibernation."

"I'll be there shortly. Please cancel the alarm and get the minor systems ready for me to preflight."

"Well... okay." I'm sometimes amazed at the smallest things about Duncan's programming, right now it's the almost pouting tone that seems to tickle me. I imagine a male child kinda like Rashid with his lip stuck out and that almost defiant disappointment in something. I bet I did that a lot when I was a kid.

I follow a set of lit directional arrows to the hangar and my M50. It has been almost six hours since the Diplomat told me to be ready to fly, so I expect communication soon about where I'm going and maybe with whom.

There are two ground-crew working on the sleek craft, making sure the tanks are topped and anything outside that could fall off won't. They both salute me as I approach the craft.

The more senior ranked of the them says in broken English, "The ship, she is good."

I wonder if he is admiring the craft or trying to tell me it is ready to go. In equally broken Xi'An I try to clarify but he just looks at me like I've answered in gibberish... which perhaps I have.

I finally resort to, "Chash'ambosari" and hope saying it's 'good enough' will work. They look at each other, then he nods my way and they return to their duties.

I can't help expecting another Xress, but I don't see any, maybe it is in another bay. I do note a pair of the exotic Qhire Khartu scouts, the type our Navy calls 'Quarks' and a pair of Banshees, all with a significant amount of activity about them.

I clamber up the ladder and settle into my cockpit; my helmet slips down over my face and I'm quickly into the preflight. The warm sound of the powerplant hums through the frame and I indeed feel like I'm sitting in a racer yearning to lunge into action.

My mobi chimes and Ksan Ko'Kree's face appears, "Shawn Ryan, are you prepared?"

"Just finishing preflight now."

"Good. We will depart in five stamin. I am transmitting your sequence locks now."

"You coming with us?" I ask while the locks transmit.

"Yes," he says. "Please assume a station keeping posture outside the Embassy until we are all formed up." With that his face disappears and the connection dies.

"Duncan, please install the sequences and their cyphers."

"Got it. You mean we finally get to punch this thing into overdrive?" He sounds like an excited kid now.

"Yup. Well, hope so. Bite m e, Duncan."

"Banter off."

I wave to my crew and motion that I'm about to depart; they give me the go to start the thrusters but indicate that I'm to wait for the two Banshees to get out.

I've only waited maybe thirty seconds when the first of the two Banshee lifts away from its pad. The second follows smoothly and my ground lead salutes and waves me out.

Thrusters lift me gently and the landing gear rises into the frame. Throttle up just a bit and I'm moving out through the pressure field. In the star laden dark, I recognize that the Banshee are both forming up with me. The two Quarks have followed me out, one moves pretty quickly behind me and the other one moves out in front.

"Commander Malit Nog to Shawn Ryan. I am in command of Diplomat Leelk's security escort. Please initiate sequenced communications."

I reply, "Sequence and cyphers locked in, switching now." I make the switch and the indicators look green. "Shawn Ryan calling Commander Malit Nog. Communications check."

"You are clear and connected."

"As are you, sir."

In an even tone, the Commander continues, "I understand you are not proficient in Xi'An and I have been asked to relate appropriate orders for you. Once the Diplomat's craft has left the Embassy, please take a position above it at a distance of one hundred ninety-two point seven meters. You are to defend his craft at any cost. You will hold the pinnacle position in a standard triangle with the Loaqlaa' (Banshee) at the lower points, but if those fighters break off, remain with the Diplomat's craft as much as possible. The Khartu will hold van and trailing positions. Do you understand these orders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, The Diplomat's Zsark is launching now."

The Zsark is oddly shaped, even for a Xi'An craft. Larger than a Connie, yet like many of their craft it is vertically oriented. I float to the top of the triangle formation hanging like a separated dorsal fin above it.

To me, the Commander says, "On the count of three, we will move out. You do know how to count in Xi'An, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

The comm blares, "Taax. Mit. Xre. Slath. (Three. Two. One. Move.)"

I push the throttle and feel the twin thrusters hurl me towards a blackout, only to realize that I'm pulling away the rest of the formation.

The Commander has noticed, too. Direct to my comm he chides, "We are not in Xress, Shawn Ryan. Diplomat Leelk's Zsark is not even a fighter class ship."

Backing away to match the group's curve more closely, I sheepishly reply, "My error, Commander Malit Nog. I will make the proper corrections."

I resume position and the commander says, "Position corrected. Proceed."

Duncan picks this moment to chime in, "Rather helpful, if somewhat anal."

I am SO glad that his comments don't go out on the sequence but are for my personal consumption only. "Well, I was flying like I meant to try to keep up with Kree'Gna."

"Yeah, and...?"

"It was my mistake."

"You need to take more of my advice."

We are all approaching .01c. I make a minor course correction to get further into the lane and set my cruise. "Well, what kind of advice?"

"Fly fast and work your way onto the racing circuit."

"Why wouldn't I just do what I'm doing now?"

"Because it's BORING!"

I wonder how far his algorithms can take this kind of conversation so I play along, "Hey, don't forget all the attempts on my life."

"This is a selling point?"

"Well, it was excitement."

"Not anything you had fun with while actually flying this little sled. When I was a pilot, we wanted to enjoy space, not have someone else ruin it for us."

"You mean by working, right?"

"Mere work is for lesser people. I am destined for greatness! Which means you are destined for greatness, too. It's high time you listened to my advice, especially since you are such a lousy shot."

"Excuse me?"

"There is no excuse, Ryan. You need to go into racing and leave the shooting to folks who understand it."

"That's encouraging."

"Oh, sorry. I sure didn't mean it to be. Wait... you did say 'encouraging' and not 'discouraging', right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Just checking. Face it, you're cannon fodder, there to draw the darts for your charges just because their craft are as maneuverable as an asteroid."

I think I'm reaching a patience limit as we blaze across the night sky. "Anything else, Duncan?"

"Don't get me started. Well... no, I guess you just did," I can almost hear a smile in his voice, then he "takes" a simulated breath. A happy bit of software... not my idea of a good thing.

"First..." he begins.

"Bite m e, Duncan."

Silence reigns as we rocket towards the first jump.

…..

As we've entered each system, we have been challenged by UEEN patrols, then followed by flights of four until we reach the next jump. We exit the jump into Earth's system and waltz right into an entire flotilla hanging in space before us. I may not get to Earth very often, but I've never seen this kind of welcome party even in somewhat "at risk" systems.

Our comms light up as the Navy hails us, "Xi'An party! This is Captain Kuti of the United Earth Empire Navy. You will immediately stand to and identify yourselves and your intent." The squadron is deploying around us, weapons pointed in and I start to wonder if perhaps there is new development... like a declaration of war?

"This is Commander Malit Nog of the Xi'An Navy, assigned to Diplomatic Protection Detail. All craft in this formation are assigned to Diplomat Torsi Leelk. Is there a problem Captain Kuti?"

"We copy your information. You will power down all weapons and shields and hold position."

"We will do as instructed. Diplomat Torsi Leelk, however, has asked me to repeat the question, is there a problem?"

"We'll see."

The direct comm link activates and the Xi'An Commander says, "Make sure your weapons and shields are powered down, Shawn Ryan. This is not usual activity and we desire no excuse for your navy to act with hostility."

I disarm my cannon and shut down the defender generator. "Done as ordered, Commander Malit Nog."

The power of the sensor sweep is WAY overblown, I'm sure I could feel the energy waves even if my systems weren't screaming alerts.

"Commander of Xi'An diplomatic detail, you are cleared to head directly to the Xi'An Embassy at Earth. We are to provide escort. You will not power on any weapons unless attacked. Do not exceed 2g acceleration or standard cruise while on direct vector to Earth."

Fat chance we will be attacked by anyone other than the mob already surrounding us. With four of the new Hornets, at least as many Gladius, and another quartet of gunships back there, I don't see much reason to think any other force would be fool enough to risk it.

I imagine I hear barely hidden anger in the Commander's polite response, "We will abide by your instructions, Captain Kuti. However, Diplomat Leelk formally objects to this treatment and will lodge protest with the authorities on Earth."

There is a laugh on the other end and I can almost imagine the Captain telling us what we can do with our protest. However, what comes over the comms instead is, "One further instruction, you have a human pilot, Shawn Ryan, in your flight. Once you reach Earth, he is to report to the Senate under subpoena to testify at a committee hearing."

That doesn't sound good.

…..

We are on approach to the Xi'An Embassy when my mobiglas lights up with my subpoena: closed door session of the Select Subcommittee of the Intelligence Committee, tentatively scheduled for tomorrow noon, New York local. Wasn't an Intel Committee senator at the Imperator's meet'n'greet? I have to wonder if this isn't another really bad idea, but I go ahead and drag the notice to a forward point on the ship's comm glas... it heads off to the Diplomat Leelk's attention.

Mere moments pass before he answers, "Leave is granted to Imperial Contractor Shawn Ryan to satisfy his duties before his government. Shawn Ryan, you are expected to contact the Xi'An diplomatic mission after your obligations are complete or after three local days, which ever comes first."

I send an acknowledgment and add a short "thank you."

The Zsark is locked onto by their docking tractor and Commander Malit Nog makes his mission completion announcement, "Diplomatic escort detail, you are dismissed to normal recovery and debrief. Shawn Ryan, my orders are to release you completely to attend to other orders; obeying such, you are also dismissed from this detail."

"Thank, you, sir," I reply... and I can almost imagine the look on his face as he ponders what I could be thanking him for.

…..

I'm careful to follow the flight path New York approach has given me, dropping to subsonic more than twenty kilometers out from the first ring of connected suburbs and holding at 3500meters AGL. The pattern is fairly crowded, I'm about two kilometers behind a Starlifter, there is a Connie a kilometer to my left and an Origen 400 something is matching the pace a similar distance to my right. We're all likely headed into the main terminal, an overcrowded stacked structure that probably has more transient population than many mid-sized cities elsewhere. I've only ordered a "bunk-room", even so the cost is obscene for the pleasure of what amounts to little more than a bed on a tray that slides into a hole 110cm by 110cm by 220cm. They're not big enough to sit up, and there's certainly no shower (the showers are down the hall, as are other facilities), but it can be had for about five hundred Imperials... and it is a lot more comfortable than an M50 cockpit for a good night's sleep.

I'm approaching the dusk wedge as I come in with the sun behind me. City lights already blaze brighter than the stars of the Great Banner do when I'm out in space, but these bring me no real peace.

Instantly recognizable government megaliths are becoming common and a sense of dread follows quickly. That lady Senator wasn't interested in the truth, I bet my being here is not what the Imperator had planned.

There is something to be said about the Terran system's political configuration: normal people live mostly on Terra and the Government weenies are the majority denizens of Gen. Earth? Well, in my humble opinion, Earth never got that one right. If there is a political equivalent to the mythical Eden, I guarantee it is somewhere on Earth, probably hidden under the Imperial Senate campus. Heck, considering that the Senate grounds in New York City are so large that they are all but visible from orbit, I might be forgiven if I were to speculate that said political Eden is actually somewhere in NYC under a controlled access SecuriPlating dome.

…..

The attendant looks up with something less than complete utter boredom, "Yeah?"

"I've got a reservation for a bunk."

"Yeah, morgue check-in is on thirty-three."

"Morgue?"

He laughs coarsely, "Yeah, them tray things look like what they drop bodies on. What do you call 'em?"

"Bunks."

He shakes his head, "Whatever."

I know I could ask my mobi, but I continue just for the moment of human contact, "Which way?"

His eyes have returned to whatever but he drones, "Elevator bank seventeen on your left a kilometer or so," his thumb gestures, "That way."

"Thanks."


	20. Chapter 19 – To Thine Ownself

"May I help you?" The questioner is a powerfully built man who fits the ex-Marine profile. His post is guarding the witness entry portal at the massive Senate building.

"The subpoena directed me to this door," I answer, reversing my mobi so he can read it.

His eyebrows arch and there is a lot behind his words, "Intelligence? You must be a first timer."

"Oh? Why would you think that?"

"The flightsuit is a dead giveaway." He points to several gentlemen entering by way of his partner and continues, "Those monsits and glogs (both are fancy descendants of modern 3 piece suits) are normal, your outfit ain't." He smirks, "Besides, you don't have a lawyer or five with you."

"Joy. Do I need one?"

"I don't give advice, I just make note of reality."

"That's just great. No mention on here of a dress code, can I still get in?"

"These are powerful people, dude, especially Intel Committee. Might be worth dressin' something closer to the nines."

I shrug, "Too late for that if I'm due this afternoon."

"Suit yourself." He drags my subpoena onto a glas and looks at the details. "How about some ID?"

I hand him what he desires.

"Well, Mr. Ryan, that checks," he says quietly, shaking his head. "You get a Closed-Door," he looks up briefly, then back at his glas, "You must be important, but I hope you know what you're doing going in like that. Okay, first bank of elevators on your right, third floor of the basement level."

"And?"

"You will meet someone like me at the elevator door. Don't go anywhere without an escort unless you have a lot more clearance than it shows here."

"I will wait for whomever."

He hands back my credentials and waves me through. He doesn't say it, but his expression adds, "Your funeral."

The long hallway is echoing marble, well, except perhaps the somewhat amorphous white material with embedded lights that makes up the ceiling. The further in I go the more the gatekeeper's admonition about clothing weighs upon me... everyone here is dressed to the likely extreme of their credit limits; I keep getting the most unflattering looks from people. At least I'm well rested enough that I can take it without turning into a grouch... or is that "more of a grouch?"

Finally, I spot the elevators and am about to step into one.

"Service elevators are down the hall," one rather overdressed snob says, almost implying he would have to hold his nose to be in the same small compartment with me.

"And witnesses are supposed to go there?" I ask with no small annoyance.

All four people already in the elevator seem thunderstruck by the question and Sir Snob replies with, "No, witnesses get the next elevator after this one; we're full." With this remark he reaches out and must activate whatever closes the door and they are gone... good riddance, too.

I press the down button again and moments later another car opens and its few occupants exit, leaving the little enclosure to me for the ride alone.

Sure enough, as soon as my door opens, no less than three gorilla's heads turn to focus on me.

"Intel?" I ask as two of them stride to confront me before I can get into trouble.

"What are you looking for, sir?"

"Intel committee. I've got a subpoena to be there."

At least these men don't show surprise or assault me about my gear. The nearest one seems to take charge of my case, "You have some form of ID and your subpoena?"

"Yes, sir," I answer, handing him the former and showing him the latter on my mobi. After running whatever check he nods and says, "Follow me, please, Citizen Ryan."

We walk a long hallway, then turn left and walk more.

At last, he stops at a doorway and motions me in. The room is well appointed, maybe even lavish after a fashion. "Please wait in here until the committee is ready for you, sir. Coffee, tea, and some juices are in the fridge," his smile seems genuine as he adds, "Though you might consider that there are no bathrooms in the Closed-Door session room."

"Yeah, thanks, I'll be careful not to add too much liquid."

"If you need me, I will be in the hall."

"Guarding the door."

"Yes, sir."

"You could sit in here and keep me company."

"I don't do company, sir. You aren't here to talk with me and the reverse is likewise true."

"Fair enough."

He leaves and the door closes softly behind him.

…..

I've solved two "diabolical" level Sudoku sitting here when my mobi signals that I've got a message. I drag it do the magnifier and see: "Be yourself, but don't left her bully you. G."

Once again, I wonder at the value of Gloria's advice... and whether I want to know what I'm really walking into.

…..

"Citizen Ryan, will you please follow me?" my escort asks from the doorway and I comply with only the slightest hesitation. We don't have far to go; not more than twenty meters away he turns and opens an ornate door with a simple golden plaque announcing: "Hearing Room - CD3" I enter and this time he never even crosses the threshold.

"Ryan?" An imposing figure asks.

"Yup, that's me."

"ID, please."

I produce it in silence, worried that I might start an argument if I ask why they are checking me for a third time. She finishes and hands it back to me, then opens what appears to be a final door into the hearing room. On one side is a raised dias with rather plush looking chairs and paneled with very dark wood. On the other side a trio of chairs behind a smallish table faces the dais. Topping the table is a bank of microphones surely capable of picking up any sound, no matter how intimate... no doubt conveniently installed with the intent of intimidating anyone.

"Do I get to pick my chair?" I ask her with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous grin.

She chuckles, "Any chair at the victim's table."

"Yeah, that's what I figured," I sigh; I make my way to the nearest chair and hear the door close behind me.

…..

Five people file in and taken their places on the dais.

A clerk has also entered, and is standing at one corner of the elevated platform. He begins, "Please state your name for the record."

"Shawn Ryan."

"What planet do you consider home?"

"Terra III."

"And you are currently employed by?"

"Xi'An Imperial contract to wing for..."

Senator Amanda Starrington, chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, interrupts, "That will do, Mr. Ryan. Finally, will you state for the record you status within the UEE."

"I guess that depends on who you ask."

"Are you a Citizen, Mr. Ryan?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

On either side of Sen. Starrington's position at the center of the dais sit other Senators, two women and two men. None have been introduced, but if I squint and stare, I bet I could make out the name plates in front of each. On the other hand, they might think I was being rude, I'm sure if they need to tell me, they will.

The clerk resumes, "Please stand, raise your right hand, and repeat after me: I solemnly swear that all evidence I give before this committee is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

I do as instructed and he follows with, "You may be seated."

Senator Starrington begins, "Citizen Ryan, we have invited you here today to clear up a few matters relating to your current activities and intentions. I have already briefed my fellow members on the meeting the Imperator called and on the MARC report presented there."

She must see my expression change to surprise; she follows with, "Yes, Citizen Ryan, I know that MARC does exist and as near as I can tell, this report is an authentic MARC case file. I do not always agree with their analysis or in this case know why they submitted your file to the Imperator's Office, but I do know better than to bite the hand that occasionally feeds our committee as well."

I note that the Senator sitting furthest to my left scowls at this statement, but he does nothing else overt to express displeasure.

Sen. Starrington's eyes don't leave me, but I sense she is waiting for something from one of her fellow Senators.

The Senator farthest right finally obliges, "Madame Chair, I have a few questions, if I may."

"Please proceed, Senator."

"Citizen Ryan, it says here that your position with Deputy Diplomat Kree'ga..."

"Kree'Gna, Ma'am," I interrupt, knowing how sensitive the Xi'An are about names. However, it becomes quickly apparent that this was not the time or place for the lesson. The Senator glares at me as if tossing stones of moderate weight my way... I don't shrink, but it is obvious that in different circumstances, she would have harm done to me for such rudeness.

"Your position with the Deputy Diplomat started because you have been partners before. Is this true?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"It also says here that you appear to have been vetted on several occasions by members of the Xi'An intelligence apparatus. Is this true?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Is it also true that in the last several standard months you have received loans, several substantial payments, and even a new ship from the Xi'An?"

"Not exactly, Ma'am."

She looks me rather in the eye and commands, "Yes or no, Citizen. This is a yes or no question."

"Then, no. It is not the whole..."

Now she decides to interrupt, "According to this report, your 350r was purchased with funds partly from partial sale of your plantation and partly with a Xi'An loan. Is this correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am, but..."

"And is it not also true that on three separate occasions since your trip into Xi'An space your personal accounts have received substantial infusions of Imperials?"

"Well, yes, Ma'am..."

"And did you arrive on planet in a Xi'An modified M50 that you received full title for from an account purported to be a Xi'An intel slush fund."

"I don't know, Ma'..."

She is staring intently, "You don't know, Citizen Ryan? It's a simple question."

I lean into the microphone bank and try to calmly reply, "It is a simple leading question, Ma'am."

"Excuse me?"

"To answer that question, I would have to state that a guess is a fact."

"And just how would you answer the question?" She asks with an unexpected smile.

"Yes, it was presented to me by a Seer, though I understood that it was for services rendered and in acknowledgment of the fact that I've been assaulted several times because of my service. I have no idea what funds or accounts had title before the M50 got my tags."

"You don't like leading questions, do you?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Or questions where you can't answer completely?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Good. I like the whole truth. Let me ask the questions again."

I realize that this is all theater, and I'm almost irrelevant to the performance... the scowl has returned to the male Senator at the opposite end of the dais and of the five, he seems the only one not paying much attention right now.

My questioner begins again, "According to this report, your 350r was purchased with funds partly from partial sale of your plantation and partly with a Xi'An loan. Is this correct?"

"Not completely, Ma'am."

"What is correct and what isn't?"

"Proceeds from the plantation paid for part and it was a personal loan from Kree'Gna that covered the rest. That has been paid back, by the way."

She nods and proceeds, "On three separate occasions since your trip into Xi'An space have your personal accounts received substantial infusions of Imperials?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Is there more you would like to say about that?"

"Yes, Ma'am. The really big one was because they were ordered to pay me what the contract stipulated when it was discovered that they had not paid me at all since the actual contract started."

The Senator at the far end can't contain himself any longer. "Excuse me, Ryan," he drawls, "Just exactly how much would you have us believe the Xi'An pay their escort pilots?"

"I only know about me, but..."

"Just answer the question."

"I believe they..."

"How much, Ryan?"

"I'm not just a Pilot." I have their complete attention now.

"Go on, Citizen," Senator Starrington says.

"Look, something about how MARC is paying attention on one end and the Seers are on the other seems to make me important, somehow."

Grumpy looks over at the Chairwoman and states loudly, "Let the record show that not only did Mr. Ryan NOT answer my question, he came up with a cockamamie story making himself special."

"I didn't lie."

"I don't believe you, Ryan" he grouses, "I just don't believe you."

I'm about to snap back at him... but the place itself seems to remind me that nothing here is likely what it seems. Looking him right in the eye I repeat myself, "I didn't lie."

The Chairwoman clears her throat, "Citizen Ryan, are you in the employ of the Xi'An intelligence service?"

"No, Ma'am... unless Kree'Gna is... and I doubt that from the interactions I've seen between him and Ksan Ko'Kree."

"You have taken no credits or their equivalents from them?"

"Well... I guess if you say it that way, the M50 might qualify. They haven't given me an accounting of how they have paid me."

"You don't think you might be more kindly disposed to them than you are to, say, MARC or OES?"

"I don't trust them, if that is what you mean. Then again, I don't trust Mr. Po and the OES either."

"And MARC?"

"Gloria has given me reason to doubt at times, but recently both she and Lanai have behaved exceptionally... if occasionally... um..." I search for a way to say it kindly, "... Honesty challenged."

"You mean they lie?"

"Gloria certainly has on several occasions, Ma'am."

"As far as you know, is what is in this report on you accurate, or has it been embellished?"

"Ma'am, other than glancing through the material at the Imperator's meeting, I've never read their report."

Sen. Starrington's eyes brighten, I almost think she was waiting for this as she says, "I would like you to read it this evening, Citizen Ryan. Since the day is already late, I hereby adjourn this meeting of the Intelligence Committee to resume at 1000 local tomorrow morning. Citizen Ryan, since that is highly classified material, you will not be able to return to your accommodations tonight, you will be housed in one of the witness suites; Senate Security will escort you there." Her smile is evil as she rises without any further hesitation and I'm left stunned. Heck, it is only 1605 local, how is that late?

As quickly as they came, the five have left and a pair of suits easily the size of Sataball backers steps to my table. "Please come with us, Citizen Ryan."

"Not much choice, is there?" I ask in resignation.

One of them smiles and says, "No, not really."

…..

I'm not sure if I should be pleased or angry with the accommodations. I've got a view out over the Senate Complex and on into greater New York... but my mobi won't connect to anything and all the comm and holo channels on the room's entertainment glas are the unusually banal and uninteresting tripe fed to the masses. Blaaach!

On one hand, they must have very important people stay here, it is comfortable to the point of plush. On the other, there are two guards at the door to make sure I'm "kept safe"... joy. I really have nothing else to do than read the MARC report.

I'm sure I'm being manipulated, but I don't yet see what the point is. As I try to figure it out, an unsettling thought strikes me: perhaps I'll never really know what is happening.

…..

In spite of a great dinner, I'm rather unsettled. Sunset has passed and I'm little better than a caged bird, albeit in a gilded enclosure.

Reading MARC's tome on me is mind-numbing. There is stuff in here that I don't understand, especially in data chunks called "analysis" but much of the rest is pretty clear. I don't know how to dissect their observations, especially when I only know my part of it, but I think it is accurate. If anything, especially early on, Gloria didn't really trust me either. She seems to have seen me as a conduit to extract information from. Over time that changed, but initially, I was just the replacement data access point for her "AcDat" assignment. I try to read around sections that are blacked out, but whomever redacted those things knew what they were about... I have no guesses at all.

Finally, my eyes are too crossed from the effort and I lay back into an overstuffed recliner...

…..

"Thank you for rejoining us, Citizen Ryan," Senator Amanda Starrington says with as much conviction as I would expect someone on Spider to offer an Advocacy detachment. "I remind you that you are still under oath. Are you ready to continue?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"In reference to my question yesterday about the MARC report, have you read it?"

"I tried to."

"What do you mean?"

"Some of their stuff is WAY over my head, Ma'am."

"But you at least read through it, even the parts you did not understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. Then I repeat my question from yesterday: As far as you know, is what is in this report on you accurate, or has it been embellished?"

"I think they make me sound smarter than I am."

Everyone chuckles except my dour faced antagonist on the left... he would seem ready to bore a large laser through my forehead. He sneers as his doubt becomes words, "You mean you would have us believe that you didn't deliberately participate in a slink plot to disrupt Jenk Gallen's activities and then conspire to have him arrested?"

"Excuse me?"

"I dare say you heard me just fine, Ryan."

I lean forward into the microphones and say quietly, "You are in error if you think I either knew about or participated in any way with the Seer's actions in regards to Mr. Gallen."

"I can smell a lie, Ryan."

"Then you obviously have a cold, Senator."

He looks rather taken aback and three of the four others chuckle.

The one who did not chuckle, however, is Sen. Starrington. She seems to take offense at my answer, "Citizen Ryan, please control your outbursts. If you can not answer civilly, you can be fined."

"What did I say wrong, Ma'am? I was being accused of lying by someone who obviously has his facts wrong, and I simply answered his allusion in kind."

"Amanda," Grumpy says, "Why are you even listening to this drivel? You put too much faith in this MARC group, when it is obvious that they do not have the Empire's best interests in mind."

"Carl, I have explained that; this is not the time to rehash my opinion."

"Hmmmph," he snorts, then glares my way again. "Is it not true that you even stooped to threatening a lawyer when he came to notify you that your precious tea plantation was going to be sold?"

"He threatened me, I simply informed him that I could let those who had tried to kill me guess that he and I were in business together."

"That sounds like blackmail, Ryan."

"Sauce for the goose."

"Excuse me?"

"Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. He threatened me, I was within my rights to make clear that my enemies could become his also."

"Hornek would never buy that..." he stops in mid sentence and I realize that everyone on the dais is staring at him.

Amanda quietly says, "Carl."

He stares her down, "I'm not on trial here, he is."

From the far right, a voice clearly says, "Madam Chair, perhaps we should excuse this witness for now, with the option to recall him at a later date."

Sen. Starrington glances her way, then states, "I need to get a few more answers before I can do that." She turns an icy gaze my way and asks, "Citizen Ryan, have you met with the Imperator other than on Terra recently?"

"No. Ma'am."

"Do you understand that it is part of the oversight responsibility of this committee that we be informed of matters that fall within intelligence activities?"

"If you say so."

"It is. You are ordered to report any future contact with Imperator Costigan to us within 48 hours. Do you understand this?"

"Well, if he calls to talk about raising tea..."

"We both know that you are not going to talk with the Imperator about farming."

"Well, if he ever did call me again, wouldn't it be about the stuff we talked about at the meeting?"

"Most likely."

Like a bolt out of the blue, the thought strikes, "I'm not a spy, Ma'am. Wouldn't him talking to me about something like that more properly be something I would talk to the Foreign Affairs Committee about?"

For a hint of a moment, her eyes open wide and I know I've found a flaw. She is herself again almost before I can be sure, "You are a MARC source and an OES witness, anything you do is covered under OEGC 2741-171 Section 4. That means that if you talk with the Imperator again, I can say that it IS our business. You will be held in contempt if you fail to do notify us."

I think about it, the Imperator told me we would likely never speak together again. Without lying, I can let her think what she will. "Senator, will it satisfy you if I agree that if he ever approaches me again, I'll let you know?"

She must have seen some look in my eye, "Have you met with him since Terra?"

"No, Ma'am." The fact that it was on Terra but after the larger meeting means I haven't lied.

Old Hostile's drawl is gone as he nearly screams, "Just lock him up, Amanda! He's admitted to blackmail!"

"Carl, we will talk after this is done." She nods my way, "Yes, Ryan. If you agree to notify us of any conversations you have with the Imperator, then I am satisfied enough for now. Let the record show that this committee reserves the right to recall this witness should the need arise. This meeting is adjourned."

Everyone but "Carl" rises and heads out the door. He, too, rises, but he says to me, "I'm no fool, Ryan. You monkeyed with things you ought not to. This isn't over."

…..

My walk back to the transit is rather strange. I keep thinking that I could use a shower and a nice steak. Maybe even more, I could use some explanations. It seemed to me that "Carl" knows Hornek Tish. Just the possibility that he is one of the senators that OES said might be behind Tish is sobering. And if my instinct is right, no one else on the committee was surprised about that... they were only surprised that he mentioned the Tevarin by name in responding to me. Even the senator who seemed most agreeable to my cause seemed to want to hush things up. Maybe I'm reading it wrong, but then again, it adds up.

My mobi vibrates and I glance down. If it's Gloria, I'm going to have to... no, it isn't. It is from the Xi'An diplomatic corps asking if I am okay. I voice a message saying that I just got released and should be able to return to duty within the hour if needed; I also ask for instructions.

…..

The monorail rides fairly smoothly to the hangar superstructure... and I don't miss the vibration of another message. This time it looks like Gloria's style, but it is signed "Mark"... and I wonder: "Do not use your bunk. Get off world as soon as possible. You are in danger. Mark."

No, I don't remember anyone named "Mark" in my recent past, much less one who would be in a position to warn me of trouble. But I do remember Gloria saying something about saying they worked for Mark if they were in trouble, maybe the generic "Mark" is what one of their folks figures I might recognize. On the other hand, I have to wonder... I intend to check Duncan and the ship out VERY carefully.

…..

I didn't bring much to the bunk, just a towel and clean underwear, so I'm not losing anything significant to just check out and pay the bill for the night I slept there and the night I didn't. I can plainly see that I'm not significant to the desk clerk, but I feel like someone is watching my every move.

I walk the long gallery to the lift that will take me to my hangar level with something akin to hyper-vigilance. Still, as I catch the elevator and move to stand against the back wall, nothing seems to justify my edginess... except the message from "Mark".

…..

"You reserved three days, cancellations need to be more than twenty-four hours in advance. You've been charged for three days. No refund." This speech is delivered in a monotone that would make the voice program for a toaster proud... that it comes from a twenty-something who appears to have a doctorate in boredom is almost anticlimactic.

"Yeah, well then you have your Imps, just make sure I don't have to blow the doors up to get out."

"Threats are dealt with by the New York Port Authority Police."

I consider responding with something cutting, but I would be wasting my effort, he hasn't really heard me at all. "Just clear me for departure."

"Already done, contact NY Tower 2 control before exiting the hangar." He is already doing something else and it's obviously pointless to attempt to engage him further.

…..

Standing at the foot of my M50, I wonder what might have been done to her. I extend the ladder and climb close enough to the opened cockpit to ask, "Duncan?"

"Yup."

"Full diagnostic."

"Who wants to know?"

Sometimes my own security can bite me back, but I guess I will be thankful if it has helped while I was gone. "Duncan, initiate challenge."

His tone changes just a hint and the aggressive Duncan speaks, "Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

Sounding annoyed, he retorts, "You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

"Bite m e, Duncan," I say with a bit less aplomb than I might normally.

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"Duncan, I need a complete diagnostic run on all flight systems. Check for any access to this ship since I left forty odd hours ago. Check also for tampering with your own software, full checksum."

"Begun. You sound worried, Shawn. You know, when I used to get worried, I would take a ship and visit the stars. You could..." He interrupts himself in a much more focused tone, "Discrepancy found in number two thruster secondary cooling coil... discrepancy found in number two thruster backup coolant pump... checksum error on thruster control afterburner controller software... checksum error on powerplant energy distribution router... checksum error on my primary control interface..."

"Duncan, exit."

"Goodbye."

I pull up the command interface and manually delete Duncan's software. Slipping a chip out of hiding under the radiation readout glas, I set the tiny thing on a pad interface and begin to reinstall him. Meanwhile, I make sure I have clean shore power and then shut the powerplant down.

What did they expect me to do after I had been away? They think I'm just going to fly out into space and only when I'm screaming along discover my right thruster was overheating? Circles within circles...

I think it's much more likely that they want me to find these things... either to order a replacement part that they will provide or to distract me from whatever they have done that is much more significant.. Well, honestly, I guess whomever could have done both.

"Duncan, please list ship accesses since landing."

"Authorized access yesterday morning from 0746 to 0924. Authorized access yesterday evening from 2125 to 2207. Authorized access today from 0652 to 0831. Authorized access currently."

"Authorized? By whom?"

"Previous Duncan install has recorded voice challenge access by Shawn Ryan."

"But I wasn't here. Play them, please."

My voice comes out of the speaker at me and my blood chills. Well, I guess it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to record my voice while I answer the challenge if they had a recorder in the cockpit here or on either of my past ships. I've gotten sloppy, I need to set up a better access matrix... but not here... not until I've gone over the cockpit for any unanticipated EM signatures. It wouldn't make much sense to start over if they are just going to rerecord it.

…..

The Xi'An response is short and to the point, "Pilot Shawn Ryan, you are to meet Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna at Castra II in three Earth Standard days. Contact him with your usual sequence."

I acknowledge the order and wonder if I'll have time to straighten my ship out before I need to meet Kree'Gna. He doesn't like crossing Pelles alone, honestly, neither will I if my ship is somewhat questionable. All things considered, though, I might want to beat him to the far jump; I have to wonder if Castra is all that much safer these days with so many stray UEEN pilots wandering around.

…..

"New York Tower 2, T171-4DLR17 ready for departure to orbit."

"LR17, you are clear to depart to orbit on NY Orange 16 Bravo. Maintain subsonic until 5km AGL. Clear for orbit ops with Earth Control #6 at 20km AGL."

"Copy NY O16B. Slow to 5k, Earth Con 6 at 20k. LR17 Outbound."

Throttles up, just nothing ear shattering for the million or so civs running around below. NY Orange 16B swings me out over the Atlantic to climb northward beyond the coast. The day is mostly clear, just a few puffy little clouds at about 8km. Below me the lapis ocean falls away and the dark heaven above deepens from blue to black.

I select the correct channel for EC6 and make my call, "Earth Control, LR17 ready for orbit ops."

"LR17, EC6. You are clear to throttle up. Safe flight. Out."

"LR17, copy throttle up. Good day. Out."

I push the throttle and feel the drag fall rapidly away as the thin blue dome of atmosphere sinks beneath and the Great Banner fills space above. Far ahead, Earth's moon serves as a beacon and I align to take a stationary just below the night-side's lower Van Allen.

I scan my mobi for a repair platform that I might not normally be expected to use but which would carry the parts I need. An odd thought strikes me: there is an Origin second hand parts yard on the Moon, Tranquility East Origin Recyclers. Not sure what they have, but at least it isn't what anyone would ever expect me to do.

A quick check shows that there is a smallish biodome nearby with docking and sleep options available. I don't want to call them, though... better to just show up. I point my nose at the still bright satellite and bump the throttles. I never get close to c, but I still get pushed into the seat and feel that old exhilaration again. As I flash across the distance I recognize that while it sure isn't the first time for me to fly in space, it always feels about that grand.


	21. Chapter 20 – Strangely Quiet

"Tranquility Hilton, how may we serve you today?"

Looks like youth unemployment on the moon is missing at least one girl. "I'm looking for a pad and a bed for the night."

"What size craft?"

"Origin M50."

"Oooh, are you a racer?" the teen asks rather breathlessly.

"No, Ma'am, just a courier type."

"Oh. Well, we have a very nice Revel and York with an executive suite attached. It has a fantastic view and provides direct access to the biodome's finest shops and restaurants..."

Chuckling, I interrupt, "How about a basic hangar with a cot?"

She sounds a bit deflated, "Well, we do offer some SelfLands down on the crater level, direct access to the crater's transport for industrial and ore supplies. We also have a couple VFG Industrial at the basement level, They are meant for miners, but the flyway access shouldn't be a problem for your size craft." The comm glas shows a link and I pull up the rates... they aren't all that different.

Tucked in among the miners, that really appeals to me. On the other hand, I learned a long time ago that there is no ambush like a flyway exit, maybe I better go for something with an outside door. I touch the appropriate points for pay in full and say, "I would like to get one of the SelfLand hangars, please. Sending data and credits."

She is obviously watching her glas for everything to populate, then she says, "Your hangar is number 114, East side third from the north end. The Numbers are painted on the hangar doors. Sending your access codes now, sir."

"Thank you, Miss," I say with what I think is an appropriate smile.

She seems startled and it almost seems that she is blushing, "No, sir, married, three kids."

So much for my guess on her age and perhaps I need to check my smile in a mirror, I sure didn't mean to be coming on to her.

…..

"You're in luck, Buddy," the proprietor of Tranquility East Origin Recyclers says with just a hint of slur, "We had one of last year's 50s come in just a week or so ago. Cockpit all shot to hells, but the powerplant and thrusters are nearly pristine." He plays with a glas and looks up at me, "Ah think I can let you have those two parts for..." his voice trails off, but after a pause he finally says, "Thirty thousand."

I look at him like he is the thief he's trying to be, "I can get them new for less than that."

"Yeah, but I have to break up the set to give them to you, makes the thrusters less valuable to me."

I nod, "I guess I can understand that." He looks satisfied until I continue with a shrug, "I'll wait until I get to a dealership, I only stopped here to see if I could get them cheaper. Thanks anyway."

"Wait!" he nearly shouts as I start to turn away. "Look, maybe I can give you a discount... um..."

I look him in the eye and reply, "You probably paid about 30,000 for the whole derelict, considering how shot up the hull is." I can tell from his expression that I'm not far off the mark, "I'll give you ten and I pull the parts myself."

"Eighteen and not an Imp less."

"Well, I would have given you thirteen, but since you don't want to talk anymore..."

"Sixteen."

"Thanks for your time," I say, again turning for the door.

"Fourteen, but I'm gonna be there to make sure you don't damage anything else."

I turn back to him and nod. "Fourteen it is, and sure, you can watch."

…..

The secondary cooling coil and backup thruster coolant pump are sitting on a small carryall parked beneath my number two thruster. I'm contemplating hiring someone to help me, the coolant soaking into my coveralls from pulling the old parts is only part of what I've dumped on the flooring plates. It's not that it's especially difficult, but it is messy and twice doused with the noxious purple fluid is quite enough.

I keep wondering if somehow they knew I was coming here. The guy at the salvage yard came to terms pretty quickly... might whomever have gotten to him and made him a deal to sell me from that ship?

I'm getting paranoid... of course, I already know that doesn't mean they aren't after me. "Duncan?" I call into the empty bay above me.

"Yes, sir, that's me."

"What is the status on the software reinstalls?"

"The thruster control afterburner controller software has been reinstalled and checksum is good. The powerplant energy distribution router software reinstall is 92 percent complete. You having fun down there?"

"Yeah, I love these coolant baths, makes me feel all powerful and ready to kick in my own afterburner."

"Good thing I can't smell."

"And why is that?"

"If gas comes out of you on fire, you must have eaten REALLY nasty stuff last night."

"Ha, ha."

"You know, there are professionals who do this kind of work."

"And you think I am...?"

"A wannabe who revels in doing it himself."

"Thanks, Duncan."

"Glad to help."

I start to blow a raspberry his way, but get a few drops of coolant on my tongue and start to gag.

"Ah, your maturity matches your skill level," Duncan opines as I find a clean towel to wipe my mouth out with.

"Bite m e."

In the silence, I wonder about Duncan's insights and whether I'm the right person to make sure this highly tuned racer is working right.

…..

"Howie Aumundsen," the lanky twenty-something answers my query as to his name with a wide grin.

"This is a pretty impressive resume for being so young," I comment, looking down the list.

"Been working on Origins since I was a kid. Worked for my dad un...til..." he voice trails away.

"Yes?"

"Stuff happened. Thats when I hired on with the Lunar Landers' team."

"You started with them in '37?! You couldn't have been more than..."

"Fifteen," he interrupts with a look bordering on anger. "Look, if you don't think I can do the work, why did you call me in?"

"You were recommended, but I don't know the gal who suggested you very well and I have reason to be suspect of everyone."

He shrugs and turns towards the door, "Let me know how that works for you."

"What is your hourly?" I ask before he reaches the portal.

He turns and folds his arms across his chest. "For you? Three times what I usually get. If you give me any more grief about my age, then it goes up to four times."

"That translates to what amount per?"

"900 Imperials an hour." He is really annoyed and I bet he doesn't even want to do it now. However, I don't think any but the most Machiavellian plant would go this far. "How long for a secondary cooling coil and backup thruster coolant pump when the originals have already been pulled?"

"Four hour minimum."

"I can do it in four hours," I snort back.

"Yeah, that's why you called me, isn't it?" he growls.

Again he turns towards the door. This time I let him get it open before I say, "Are you including test and tuning?"

"Its twelve hundred an hour now and eight hours includes everything to get you the hells out of my face. If I get done early, you still pay eight."

I smile and he looks just a hint puzzled. "That works for me," I reply. Pointing at the hangar bay door I finish, "My bird is in there."

He nods and steps quickly that way; I rise and follow him.

…..

Howie is standing before me with his arms folded across his chest. I'm not really sure what his expression means, but he doesn't look angry or frustrated.

"You really weren't joking when you said you had to suspect everyone, were you?"

"Nope."

"So you weren't really giving me a bad time about my age, were you?"

"Nope."

"You might have said that someone was trying to kill you."

I shrug, wondering how he made the jump to that fact.

"I'm done with what you hired me for, but I already spotted a few things I'd like to check, still covered by the eight hours."

"Okay."

He walks back to his toolbox, then returns to the exhaust end of the M50. Not two minutes later, he waves me over. He is holding a plug and pointing to its receptacle on the side of the Xi'An made afterburner.

"You don't have a crew chief, do you?"

"No, I check the craft myself."

"Haven't needed your afterburners for a while, right?"

"Well..."

"Look at this plug. See anything odd?"

"Well..."

He plugs it back into the alien equipment. "How about now?" he asks.

I'm still at a loss and admit it by slowly shaking my head.

"Okay," he says, unplugging the unit again and holding the small black piece up for me to see, "It was actually pretty ingenious, they just added this..." here he seems to magically separate the plug into two segments, the top plugging onto the prongs of the bottom... almost like the receptacle should. He raises the little black top to our eye level and announces, "This little doodad takes advantage of the fact that you have a Xi'An afterburner on an Origin ship. The harness had to have that little pigtail added to communicate with the alien tech for both control and feedback. Take it off and the ship tells you you don't have an afterburner so you won't be able to use it... but if you plug this little thingamajig in, presto, the ship can activate the afterburner, but not control it once it lights.

Onboard testing says it is fine, but it isn't. You fire up the burner, it doesn't sense the control limiter signal, it overfeeds, the zone gets too hot, high density plasma in the feeder mag-ports reaches fusion temp too early, and Booom! At minimum, your tail becomes atomized dust chasing your crippled ship across the galaxy. At worst, you are a non-stellar dust cloud. Someone meant to kill you when you needed the burners."

I nod and comment, "And they probably intend to give me a reason to use them."

"Probably."

He looks at me with what must be something of a reassessment while I just wait. Finally, he speaks again, "You probably fly three or four hundred series normally, right?"

"Yup."

"Well, I crew on these things," he pats the M50's underbelly, "And they are really different animals, especially when you add alien tech. It's little things like this that you need to be careful about. Look, I know we kinda got off on the wrong foot, but I'd like to go over her once to see if anything else stands out to me."

"You just saved my life," I smile, "You're more than welcome to do it."

"Thanks," he says, turning back to the big black bird.

…..

Howie Aumundsen has come to sit beside me, holding four small devices. It is over three hours since he showed me the plug adapter, but now he looks satisfied.

"It looks like there are a lot of people interested in you," he says, laying each of the four delicately on the crate I've been using for a table.

"How so, sir?"

"Well, based on their radiation signatures, these two," here he points at two of the smallest things, "Are some kind of tracking emitters." Next, he lifts a slightly larger one, "This one is much more complex, it seems to not only be for tracking, but it has some kind of storage and a local antenna, like it is used for transmitting or receiving lots of data at close range."

"Could it be linked to something in the cockpit?"

"Sure," he chuckles, "I didn't presume to look there. But this thing is doing stuff that my gear isn't designed to detect."

I look to the last one, a seeming solid set of rings.

He follows my gaze and answers, "I have no idea what that is. It does appear to be Xi'An tech, but it is not related to any of the parts they've added to the ship's systems. It doesn't seem to radiate anything, generate any EM field, or even create heat. It just doesn't belong, and I'll be hanged if I know for sure why it was put there."

"Do you have a guess?"

He laughs, "Considering all the other stuff we've found, I bet it is meant to respond at close range to some kind of signal, but what it does then is anyone's guess."

I nod, "You do good work."

He smiles agreeably, "Thanks. So, what do we do with these?"

"Well, were I to guess," I say, picking up the third object he had demonstrated, "This is MARC's little tracker thingy. If we don't put it back for now, they will know it is gone and put another one in, just somewhere that I won't find it."

"Mark?"

"Long story, let's just say they are very persistent."

"Okay. So I put this one back?"

"Yes, but show me where so I can pull it if an emergency presents itself. I contract with the Xi'An," here his face clouds, "Nothing evil, trust me."

Doubt is written all over his features, "You know they have an innocent man about to go on trial, right?"

"I know that no one in the situation is as clean as they imply, the Xi'An, the UEE, and someone else one our side, within the UEE, who is out there trying to stir up trouble... and no, I don't really know who."

"Are you a spy?"

I laugh, "Nope, but if things are going to work out, my job is to escort one of the Xi'An who is trying to solve it without more trouble."

He seems to take a dubious view of my words, but gets back to business, "So what do you want me to do with the ring thing?"

"Just like the MARC thingy, let's put it back on, but again, show me where so I can remove it when it is appropriate to do so. I'm not going to work for them forever."

"And these two?"

"No reason I should leave them here, maybe I can put them in one of the void tubes and dump them when I get into the jump lane... that would scramble their eggs."

He chuckles, but there is still a hint of distrust in his eyes.

"Look," I say, "Someone is trying to start a war, and the Xi'An are partly to blame because some of their kind took the bait. Right now, there are people of good faith on both sides trying to cool it off, okay? I work for them, not the hotheads."

"You're an escort, huh?"

"I fly wing for a Xress."

"Really?!" he is interested now. "Are they as fast as the articles say?"

"Brilliantly fast, but they turn like a drunk on a boat at sea."

"So you can really use this at full bore?"

"I'm often black and white and sometimes tunneled for a while while I catch up."

"You said you don't plan on working for them forever... you ever consider any of the Grand Prix races?"

"I actually thought I might try the Cup qualifiers some day."

He lights up again and suddenly exclaims, "I'd be a great Cup crew chief! You've got my mobi from sending me the credits, keep it and I'll crew for you if you try for the Cup!"

I smile and admit, "That's a great idea. If you can put up with a grouchy old guy, I can deal with a bright young one."

He nods and we shake hands.

…..

"Shawn Ryan is calling Kree'Gna." I'm clear of the Castra patrols, headed towards the Castra II Covalex... Kree'Gna and I have often met up there before.

After a while at cruise, Kree'Gna's response returns, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I have just entered system, will need fuel. Meet at Habbib's for meal and catch up?"

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren. I'll see you at Habbib's Bar. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr," I reply.

Several minutes later I receive his answer, "Until then. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

…..

A shadow falls across our table and seemingly from nowhere a lanky Tev stands barely a meter away, looking down at the both of us. He doesn't hesitate, but begins speaking; the language must be Tevarin because I have never heard the like before. The words take on a rhythm, as if he is singing, reciting a poem, or quoting from some religious text. His black eyes are deep pools, shadows in the light itself. Finally, he ends his discourse and looks at me with what might be interest... or hatred. I don't know Tevs well enough to guess the expression for sure, but my hand has moved of its own accord to my pistol's handle and I wonder if I need to kill an enemy tonight. His eyes might note my defensiveness, because he says, "You do not need that tonight, TOG."

"And I know you from where?"

"You did not know me until now. I am Hornek Tish."

Kree'Gna's weapon is out almost before mine, but the Tevarin stands his ground without reaching for any of the several weapons he has strapped about him. "Do you understand my speech, Ryan?"

"Yeah, you speak clearly enough."

"I mean what I spoke when I arrived here."

"No, not really."

"It is an ancient proverb that translates roughly to:

Judge a being by

the quality of friends who are loyal,

the hatred of enemies who are powerful,

the honor of painfully honest actions,

the strength of defense demonstrated,

the luck granted by the guiding stars,

and the music flowing from the hidden soul.

"I judge you better than my patrons," he continues. "I would ask, do you make music?"

It is an odd question, one with only a small answer, "I haven't played music in a decade or more, and I have no instrument now."

"You played the harmonica, did you not?"

I'm a little surprised that he knows this, but it is true that I once did a passable job of entertaining myself with the mouth harp. "Been a long time, but yes, I did play it. Care to tell me why you want to know?"

"I would have you play now, to know the final measure of you."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because I could have killed you before you knew I was myself."

"You've tried before."

"Yes, and you have had the stars intervene."

"So now we play music and become friends?"

"No, we will likely still be adversaries. For this time, though, we will share a brief time of peace and misery."

"Like I said, I don't have an..."

He interrupts, holding out a silver object. It is a beautiful old instrument, meticulously cared for... but I have to wonder what poison it has on it that I'm suppose to kill myself with.

Incredulously, I ask, "And I'm supposed to trust that you haven't poisoned it?"

"No, but you are free to clean it or have one of them," here he gestures at the bar's staff, "Do it for you. I have my Djok Nod with me, tuned to play the key this instrument is in. Will you join me?"

"Where?" Then I get it, "Here?!"

"Yes, I have already asked the honorable Habbib if he will allow this and he has said yes."

I look over at the bar's owner and he nods my way as if he knows what I need to confirm.

"I don't know any Tevarin music, or even how you play it."

"You know what humans call blues, correct?"

"Sure. Used to play a lot of it."

"I love blues. I do not play Tevarin traditional, rather I thrive on the pathos of the blues... it suits both our peoples well, do you not agree?"

…..

I realize that we have drawn a crowd when there is a sudden crescendo of applause as we finish the old standard "Martian Mine Blues" and I'm suddenly rather self-conscious. Tish is smiling in that grim sort of way Tevs often have and Kree'Gna is nodding as if to agree with the popular assessment.

"Can you improvise from an unknown tune?" Tish asks.

I shrug, "Probably. What have you got?"

"Still in E," he says, then starts an even bass line that slowly becomes more driving. As he adds the horn-like rhythm part, I take a deep breath and voice a few trial notes. He nods and before long we have made a simple melody and I'm starting to accent it with a little riff or two.

One of the waitresses, Carla, I think her name is, comes over and asks, just loud enough to hear her, "May I sing along?"

"We're making this one up as we go."

"I like to scat," she says. The Tev and I share a glance and both nod to her at the same time.

She starts and I would swear that we were really just waiting for something this creative. Hornek's instrumentation becomes both quieter and more complex. Relieved of having to carry more of the melody, I start accenting the flow more. Soon, you couldn't tell that we hadn't been playing together for years. I notice that the bar is now packed and everyone is focused on us.

The song ends and I swear that the whole station must have heard the patrons appreciation.

…..

"Keep the instrument, you play it better than its last owner," the Tevarin says, refusing the harmonica as I try to hand it back.

The bar has quieted, a fresh steak is cooking for me and Kree'Gna is giving me something of an inscrutable look.

"So, are we friends now?"

"No. You have, however, earned my respect. I give you warning, your ship is compromised."

Reaching into a cargo pocket, I find the plug addition and hold it up, "This what you are talking about?"

He nods briefly, then states, "You are better than they know. Yes, that is what I know of."

"I got lucky."

I have no idea what he is thinking, he voice is almost tone neutral as he says, "I do not believe in luck. Humans make their own luck."

He turns and I watch him go.

"Your steak, TOG," Violi says with just a hint of sashay in her manner.

"Thanks, Ma'am," I reply, sitting back down to address the steaming platter.

…..

Stanton is one of the most boring, even gloomy crossings, jump to jump. The adrenaline rush of Pelles has fallen behind and your overstretched nerves go numb in the sterile corporate system. There has been nothing to agonize over, save only a well armed Crusader Industries merc patrol at the jump's exit. As usual, the Xress reached maximum acceleration before me and I spent a little time catching up. Now we are simply streaks crossing other craft's sensor grids, nothing behind us and little risk of problems before we slow for the final jump into Sol.

We pass much too close for my liking to Hurston, its orbit having it as close to the system transit lane as it ever comes. Looking at the polluted browns of industrial discharge laden atmosphere, I'm disgusted and wary. I don't trust those people, the misers of Hurston Dynamics; anyone who falls into their hands is as bad off as the penal slaves in an RRS colony. Even at cruise, I see more of that planet than I ever want to.

…..

For some reason, this time through the jump to Sol, Duncan is unexpectedly quiet and I'm temporarily lost almost in reverie as everything about me becomes different. I have no music on per se, but my ears still hear a flowing, undulating rhythm with bright accents, as if the ship herself is playing an opus all her own. My body feels the heavy bass of the powerplant's pumps, amplified and distorted by the very quantum nature of the lane. I am at peace, wondering how long I can feel this way.

…..

The UEEN entry patrols check us out, then let us leave in peace.

"Shawn Ryan is calling Kree'Gna."

"Yes, Shawn Ryan?" Kree'Gna responds casually.

"Do you know if you'll be here long?"

"No, Shawn Ryan. I suspect it will not be long, but I do not know."

"Fair enough. We headed for the Embassy?"

"Yes. We bear the Emperors words."

"Think there is going to be trouble?"

"You are nervous? This isn't like you, Shawn Ryan."

"They have been after me so long, perhaps you should have Athas Mgren end my contract before I get too paranoid."

"You need a rest, my friend."

"Am I likely to get one?"

The comms are silent.

"Kree'Gna?"

"No, Shawn Ryan, you are not. Not for some time yet."

I sigh and answer, "Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

He too sounds tired, "Yes, Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

…..

"Terran 171-4DLR17, we confirm you are a registered diplomatic escort." The UEEN Lieutenant on today's arrivals scan duty is in a Tracker, holding about fifty meters off my nose, his three patrol mates are rather slowly orbiting us. Kree'Gna has already gotten a once over and been cleared.

The lieutenant continues, "However, your M50 appears to be xeno modified, we need to scan it for allowed technology. Please shut down your shields and stand by."

I toggle the shield settings to "off" and as the field dissipates, I key up and reply, "Roger that. Shields down, scan away, Lieutenant."

We've just jumped into Terra, after two weeks of runs, looping into Xi'An space and back; runs so uneventful as to be boring. Sure, we've gotten stopped by UEEN and Xi'An scan teams after every jump... well, every one they have patrols monitoring. For all my worries, though, we've had no attacks... nor even a hint of excuse to hit my burners. From what I can tell, all our racing across the galaxy hasn't led to any progress in the Jenk Gallen case. Kree'Gna says Emperor Kray has decided to insist that Gallen be tried as a spy and I have no reason to doubt this.

The open comms cackle to life, "LR17, that is some rig you have."

I would guess the lieutenant is somewhat in awe, but I hear this so often that I'm almost blasé about it. "Thanks, sir. Are we free to go?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Not that I could afford that, but what does a courier like that go for?"

"Lieutenant, I honestly don't know, the Xi'An did the upgrades so I could do my job better... they never told me the price."

"Yeah, that I understand. Thanks anyway. You are clear to proceed."

"Thanks, sir. Have a safe patrol."

Kree'Gna has been listening and calmly says, "Go for cruise."

"Copy, Throttles up." My M50 screams after his leading Xress, and without pursuit we remain in a simple wing formation.

The feel of the stars here is familiar. I know I've been in just about every system in the UEE, several Banu and most of the allowed Xi'An as well... even the lawless ones like Cathcart, Pyro, Hades, and Pelles... but in no other system does the Great Banner feel as much like an old friend as it does here. The constellations are all in their proper places led by the Great Goose herself, the stars that together point north when I sit again upon the Torre Nor uplands.

It's been a while since I could set my craft down on firm ground and get a good meal, I'm hoping Kree'Gna will be at the embassy long enough to fly by the house... er... well, hangar and hole in the ground.

…..

Answering my queston, Kree'Gna replies, "Yes, I could use a sleep cycle even if I don't need to layover. You are free to go down to Terra for a cycle, I'll contact you with a departure time."

"Thanks, Kree'Gna; I really need the rest."

"As do I. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

Relieved that things are going so well, I reply, "Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

The Xress heads for an open bay on the Xi'An Embassy and I point my little nose for home.

…..

Looking down from 20,000 meters, the whole of the Torre Nor uplands is bathed with bright afternoon sunlight; it seems to glow in verdant greens interrupted by occasional puffy white clouds scattered like spilt popcorn on an emerald lawn. At the edge of the horizon, however, rises a threatened storm; the first big one of fall, or so the forecast says. I can see its towering thunderheads climbing almost to my elevation... I'd guess that late tonight or tomorrow is when it should hit.

For just a moment, I wonder if I shouldn't head back to the Embassy... then the moment passes and I make my call and begin my descent.

…..

Once upon a time, I loved to anticipate the big storms when they swept through. Well, when they swept through while I was on the ground. Rain sometimes falls so hard you can barely see objects scant meters away, and a step outside is the immediate equal to standing under a waterfall. Torre Nor is temperate, the climate moderated by the vast onshore flow from the warm ocean. There isn't any snow, but in the late fall and into the winter we occasionally get these monsters that can produce high winds, flooding, and rarely even hail.

Now, I'm looking at the hangar and wondering what I should do. The Aeroview folks have apparently been here, the doors open with a smoothness that is encouraging. Inside, I see for the first time my new 315p; it looks like they have the paint-job wrong... again... but it is still good to see her. Beside her is the damaged 350r, they will likely not pick her hulk up until the replacement is brought over and my mod parts replaced.

Mindful of my main exhaust, I hover into place and pivot slowly to face outwards... then down, down, down, seemingly inch by inch, until my gear takes the ship's weight and I shut the systems down. The heavy bay doors slide shut and I'm safe inside without incident.

…..

I'm hardly out of the ship when Dean Olivian strides up, "Welcome back, Shawn!"

He is all smiles and I hope I'm not going to have to endure a bunch of talk about he and Jurdi.

"Hey, Dean, how goes the battle?"

"Odd you should put it that way, but it goes pretty well... I hope."

"You hope?"

"Let's get you out into the fresh air, then if you're staying the night I'll get you settled and fill you in. You hungry?"

"Yeah, actually, I am."

"Jix. I was just about to test some barbecue; Jurdi dropped off some freezer meat... and, well, I kinda like the taste of fresh meat that has roasted over a low fire."

"Is she here?"

"Jurdi? No, she's staying in town right now; she does swing by for updates and I suspect just to breathe the air out here. I especially think she didn't want to be in here tonight so I could stay. Did you know there's a storm supposed to drop in this evening or early in the morning?" I nod and he continues, "Yeah, well it was agreed that I would do better waiting out the storm here and she would take the little ones back to Prime."

"Makes sense to me." Looking around, I continue, "The fields looked good on the way in, any problems?"

"Not with that. Your crew does great work and I've been taking care of them. After we've eaten, maybe we can discuss a few other things I've taken the liberty of doing."

Trying not to look too concerned, I respond, "Sure. How long until the meat is done?"

"I'll go check now," he replies with a big grin and jogs off to the side door.

…..

"I can't eat any more," I happily groan, "Seven excellent skewers of mostly meat and I'm FD&H."

"FD&H?"

"Fat, dumb, and happy."

Dean chuckles, "I see."

"So, what did you want me to wait on finding out about?"

"Well, there were some visitors three days after you left."

"And...?"

"Lawyers, all sure of themselves."

"Joy." I remember Carl's comments... he had known that I had threatened that weasel from the law firm, now it had come back to roost. "I can guess..."

"Well, probably not."

I look at him, wondering what might have happened. "Go on."

"They said that you had threatened their partner and that they were here to make sure you knew they were going to go ahead with everything."

My heart sinks and I wonder if I have long to keep my land.

Dean continues, "Well, without you around, I figured you had delegated management to me to deal with whatever came up. And, well, I did. I hope you aren't mad, but I called my old lawyer, one who has made out quite well by working with me over the years and after I explained it to him, he took the case. He is still one of the league's best... and best paid... attorneys and for good reason. He was on them like white on rice and informed me last week that we are counter suing. Yesterday, he called and told me they want to settle for what you supposedly agreed to after you scared the be... er... stuff out of that shrimp. I said I needed to wait until I heard from you, but that I figured they were getting off a little easy. He agreed and you should have heard him laugh, but if you really did agree to those terms, then he figures you really should settle."

"Dean," I say, smiling, "Thanks. I owe you one."


	22. Chapter 21 – Back To Normal

There are a lot of good ways to wake up in the middle of the night. Having a laser pistol stuck in your face isn't one of them.

Above me stands Gordon Bellforte, Mr. Po, and another gorilla I don't know. The ice cold Mr. Bellforte is the one holding the muzzle of said laser pistol against the bridge of my nose.

"Where in the hells is my daughter, Ryan?" Mr. Po asks with enough icy fury to make most people have continence problems.

Not really taking my eyes off the device pressing against my face I reply, "She wanted to join MARC after the way you treated her. MARC appears to have..."

"STOP with the MARC Bull! We both know it doesn't really exist!"

"I don't 'know' that, in fact I know the opposite."

"You lying WHOAHO!" he screams and I think our planetary OES commander is on the edge of needing his own psych evaluation. It would be funny if I didn't expect to have a hole through my head at any moment.

"Is there a problem here?" a familiar voice asks from the direction of the lift.

"This isn't your problem, leave!" Po orders and the gorilla moves out of my sight.

"Boss, you having problems with these folks?" That familiar voice belongs to Dean, I'm not inclined to get him into this.

"Don't sweat it, Dean. Just a misunderstanding that I got caught in."

There is a sudden sound of a scuffle and what might be a punch or two being thrown. There is a loud 'thud!' followed by Mr. Bellforte starting to raise the pistol off my face.

"Boss, you might tell them I don't take kindly to being threatened, and I don't put up with punks."

The laser pistol is moving, now, but the threat Bellforte is responding to is moving like a blur into my field of vision. As if swatting away a child's punch, Dean deflects Gordon's raised weapon and steps within his reach. The two are about equal in weight, if not quite size, but Dean's hand is suddenly twisting the Associate's arm at the elbow in a manner that appears to be painful...

"Drop it, bud," Dean says through clenched teeth and Gordon Bellforte complies.

"Tell him to stand down, Ryan," Po orders from somewhere nearby.

"Give me a good reason not to dislocate this chump's shoulder," Dean replies.

"We are OES. We are the government!"

Dean looks down at me and I nod. "Why were they threatening you, Mr. Ryan?"

"The one giving the orders thinks I've done something to his daughter."

"Where is she, Ryan?"

"Where do you think I would be?" another voice asks from the lift.

"So! You were here all along!"

"Hardly. But we knew you were headed here and my trainer suggested this might be a good time to face you."

"We?"

"You just don't get it, do you? MARC is real. I am training to be a Reporter now, something I'm likely to be very good at." I can hear Xin Po moving to face her father at close range.

"Dean," I say rather softly, "Please don't hurt Mr. Bellforte, he is likely to take it out on me at some point in the future."

Dean smiles down at me and then looks at the OES Associate, "Okay, but I'm watching you." He steps back and Gordon massages his elbow. I'm surprised, but he doesn't reach down for the fallen weapon.

I sit cautiously up and let my eyes find Xin.

Xin isn't finished with her father, "You taught me to be nothing more than a sex toy for draining information from men, you forgot that I'm a REAL WOMAN!"

Her anger explodes and I almost expect her to strike him. "I am not your SLAVE, OLD MAN!"

He is stunned at this turn of events and seems suddenly unsure of himself.

"I will become the best Reporter MARC has ever had, and if you DARE EVER come after this man or ANYONE else on account of me, I will expose things about you to the powers that be that will have your head on a platter before you can SCREAM! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!"

The force of her verbal assault on the man is enough and he sags back against a wall.

Under his breath, Gordon says admiringly, "What a woman."

All I can do is nod.

Xin leaves her father shattered against the wall and walks over to Dean, Gordon, and I.

"Ms. Po," Gordon says admiringly.

She glances his way and answers, "Mr. Bellforte." Next she eyes Dean, but before I can introduce her, she says, "Mr. Olivian."

"Ma'am... I didn't catch your name."

"Xin."

"Ms. Xin."

"Nope, just Xin." He nods and she continues, "You have managed to step into a hornet's nest watching out for his little garden here."

"Yes, Ma'am, seems that way."

"Surprised?"

"No, Ma'am, considering that his last managers got vaporized next door."

"You still planning to do that monk thing?"

"I don't know. Seems like there are a few things here that I would like to be sure of first."

Xin glances at me and then look back at him, "You realize that everything you do here will be watched and evaluated, don't you?" It sounds like less of a question that an observation.

I hear a sound near the wall and see that Mr. Po has settled into a seated position on the floor, still completely shell-shocked.

"Yes, Ma'am," Dean answers Xin's question without flinching.

She nods approvingly and finally turns her full attention my way. "Well, Shawn, if you have any more problems like this, I'll know pretty quick. You have enough to worry about as it is without pops over there going all ballistic on you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't mention it. Gloria wanted me to tell you that Hornek Tish has doubled the bounty on you, or at least on your corpse. Seems your little music session hasn't softened his position on your survival. However, someone spliced the holos of that little session from Habib's into a bootleg that is making the rounds in several circles of blues fans. If the Tev can get past his murderous intent and Carla wants to join you, you have the makings of a career change that won't be of any real interest to OES, MARC, or whomever is behind Tish."

I shrug at this news... though I have to admit, I wonder just how bad I look in it. "As for who is behind Tish, I think it is at least one member of the Senate Intel committee, Carl somebody. Senator Starrington might be in on it too, but I'm not so sure about her."

Xin nods and says quietly, "I'll pass that on to your case Researcher. I'm not working on you, I'm only here because my trainer was pretty certain that pops needed a talking to and that doing it in your presence was best for everyone."

She looks back at Dean and says, "By the way, everything you saw here tonight is classified, unless we tell you it's okay to talk about it, you can't."

"Well, other than with Mr. Ryan and at confession, I don't plan to."

"Confession?"

"I'm a postulate for a Franciscan order, violence isn't exactly allowed and I kinda took care of that guy," he gestures at the heap still lying on the flood, "and this guy," here he points at Gordon Bellforte before continuing, "In less that nonviolent means... it was before you showed up."

She nods, "You do know that Franciscan monks can't marry, right?"

He chuckles, "Yes, Ma'am."

She raises an eyebrow as if to ask a question that only he can guess.

Surprisingly, he answers, "Just because I'll go to confession doesn't mean that I've decided to take my final vows."

She glances my way and then back at him, "Choose wisely, Mr. Olivian."

"I plan to. And if you want me to call you 'Xin' then you need to call me..."

"Dean," she interrupts and he just nods. "By the way," she adds softly, "My pops over there was a big fan of yours, you could do a lot worse than to give him your autograph on something."

"Thanks, I'll take care of that."

Xin looks my way again and says, "You know, I never thanked you. Without your stubbornness and honesty, I would never have wound up where I am now." She unexpectedly leans forward and kisses my cheek. Eye to eye, she breathes, "Thanks, TOG. I owe you one."

The hangar rumbles with loud concussions that reach crescendo with the echoing BOOM! of nearby thunder.

"Time to go," Xin states rather matter of factly. To Gordon Bellforte she says, "Better get pops out of here quick or you'll be trapped for a while."

Gordon nods and answers, "Good to see you again, Xin."

She seems to recognize something she doesn't want to deal with, shaking her head as she turns away without an answer. Hurt paints his face and I think I see a bit of an unexpected emotion in his eyes... it sure looks like longing. Xin turns only when the lift door slides into place and what I can see of her face reflects her old cold self. Mr. Bellforte's eyes follow her across the hangar and he only looks away when the outer door has closed behind her.

"Well, while I don't want to seem a bad host," I begin and both Dean and Gordon look my way, "I didn't exactly stock the larder very well for four."

"You've got plenty in the freezer, Mr. Ryan," Dean offers with a disarming grin.

"We should go," an unexpected voice states from behind me. Well, unexpected because of the state I last saw Mr. Po in; I turn to see him upright and at least appearing to be in control of himself once again.

"Apology accepted," I say snidely, receiving an icy glare in response.

"Don't push it, Ryan."

"I told you the truth."

"Doesn't matter. I'm still me and you are still little people. And like she said, it is all covered by OEGC 2741-171 Section 4. Maybe MARC is real, but it doesn't make either of you any less OES sources... maybe now more than ever."

"Excuse me?"

"You know MARC better than my people appear to... I'll probably find a time where I want you to fill me in on what you know or find out."

Outside a massive thunderclap erupts and everything loose rattles, indicating that the lightning bolt must have struck close-by. We four all look momentarily startled, then I answer, "I thought I didn't have the tradecraft or whatever."

"Yeah, but you appear to have more honesty than I gave you credit for and I may need to make up for lost time... that makes you valuable to me. As for you," he looks at Dean, "That was pretty slick moving... you are the real Dean Olivian, aren't you?"

I see the big man nod cautiously, "Yes, sir. Sorry I had to use so much force on your men, but I tend to feel a bit of loyalty for folks I consider friends."

"I liked your moves... well, I didn't like them at the time, but they were very effective. Looks like some of my guys need a bit more training, care to work for me?"

"No, thank you. It seems my current boss has need of a bit more assistance than I originally thought, and besides, I'm supposed to be learning a nonviolent lifestyle now."

For the first time tonight, I see what looks like a genuine smile on Shen Po's face, "Well, think about it. I suspect we'll see each other again, especially if you are going to hang around old trouble here." This last is said while gesturing in my direction.

My skin starts to crawl with electricity and I notice startled looks on my companion's faces that likely match mine.

In a brilliant flash, the copper ground for our lightning rod glows instantly to sun-like brightness as a direct strike hits my hangar... and though it is on the far side of the hangar near the doors, the concussion of the thunderclap outside strikes with the rumbling of an planetquake and the sound of a bomb. The lights wink out and only the hot glow of nearly melted metal lights the dark.

Emergency lights come on and soon the generator is running... but we each seem rather stunned. Only the acrid smell of smoke from something or other that had been too close to the ground finally breaks us out of our torpor; almost at the same moment, Dean and I break for the lift, then he turns to the sink for something while I grab the closest fire extinguisher. Whatever it had been, the fire is small and goes out quickly, though the scorch marks will likely be here until the building is no more and maybe long after that.

Meanwhile, it seems that Messrs. Po and Bellforte had decided to exit the hangar, probably to depart, but they are now standing at the open door without exhibiting any serious motion to actually leave. A further look their way shows why: outside, the rain is falling so hard that just beyond the overhang it appears more like a solid wall than any number of raindrops.

I smile and Dean follows my gesture to see them standing there, shoulders sagging with resignation.

"Well," I call out, "Might as well close the door, gents. I'll get some dinner, why don't you all sit down upstairs? Any ideas what we should do after we eat? Maybe some poker?"

"Ever play Bridge?" Gordon Bellforte asks with a hint of greedy intent.

Dean smiles rather diabolically, "Yeah, I've played a hand or two"

"I haven't played that since... well, must have been back in the twenties when I was..."

"Oh joy, now we get the life history," Mr. Po states rather sarcastically. He continues, "If you can play, then it's Gordon and me against the two of you."

I look over at Dean and shrug. He nods back and I say, "You're on."

…..

If you had told me a week ago that I would be sitting in my hangar eating sandwiches and drinking Guinness, swapping jokes and telling stories, and playing rather intense rubbers of Bridge all night with Shen Po, Gordon BellForte, and Dean Olivian... well... I might have suspected that you were short a thruster or two.

But as the storm rages outside, here the four of us sit.

"I'm going to have to call it a night," Dean states. He gestures at the gorilla sitting by the exit door, sullenly avoiding any attempt at interaction. "Maybe your extra man..."

"The hells you are," Shen interrupts with a growl. "Rubber match and I want to beat the two of you at something."

"You know, once the storm breaks," I say, "I'm probably going to have to get back to the stars myself. Since I'm not worth much if I haven't gotten any sleep, maybe this is a good time to call it a draw."

"Don't like your cards?" Gordon smiles a little too broadly.

Shaking his head, Dean states, "Never say I didn't give you a chance." He looks briefly again at the hand Po dealt... even though I have little doubt from his expression that he never needed to see them again... and declares, "Two Spades."

"Three clubs," Gordon quickly tosses his words at Shen.

I look down at my hand; I've only got two clubs, but one is the king, so even if Gordon has the ace I might have a stopper for his second play. With four spades to the queen, five hearts to the ace jack, and two little diamonds, I figure I'm safe going, "Three hearts."

"Pass," Po sighs.

"Four no trump." Dean has that wide grin that tells me we may be into slam.

Po groans and lays his hand down, all the while shaking his head.

"Five clubs," Gordon follows on, wearing a look I've only seen on grizzly bears in those holos where they are catching fish with their mouths.

I try to remember my bidding conventions... I think I'm supposed to tell him how many aces. I think that since clubs is already out, the one that will tell him I've got just one is "Five Hearts?"

Po looks at me with a grimace and snarks, "No tradecraft my ass."

I smirk back and ask, "Is that your bid?" I'll grant that I put as much tweak as I can in those four words.

"Bite me, spacer," he says with a grimace and shake of his head. "Pass."

"Seven spades," Dean announces.

Gordon glares at him, but I think I detect a touch of smile underneath it. "Pass."

"Pass," I add.

Po is still shaking his head; he looks up and with about as silly an expression as I've seen him wear asks, "So I guess seven no trump isn't a realistic option?" Everyone laughs and he continues softly, "Pass."

Gordon shakes his head, does his best Cheshire cat smile, and leads the ace of diamonds. I lay my hand down to dummy and see Dean grin. Gordon still looks triumphant. Little diamond from me, little diamond from Shen, two of spades from Dean.

Mr. Bellforte erupts, "You have GOT to be kidding me!"

Dean smiles, "Nope. A sixth grader could make slam in spades with..." here he points at me, "His hand added in."

I can see Gordon quietly exhale, "Do you have any clubs?"

"Nope. I'm guessing you have nine or ten."

Gordon slumps and opines, "Should have quit when we had the chance, Mr. Po."

"Now you tell me."

"I'm going to the head," I say, rising from the table, certain my partner has it all under control.

"Want to take my cards with you?" Po jokingly queries.

"Pass."

They all laugh and I chuckle.

…..

Morning is halfway gone when the rain finally lets up enough that the three OES types decide to rough it. I open the hangar doors to shorten their sprint to a waiting 'Lancer, but it is obvious that by the time they reach its shelter that they are all completely soaked. Wet cats are probably happier than they were, though at least I did feel that I had given them a good hot breakfast to head out with.

Dean stands beside me as I let the doors slide closed, cutting off the sounds of the engines firing up.

"Well, they are at least real people," he comments.

"At least some of the time."

"Yeah, that 'little people' remark did rather speak of a nasty side... but I do think they relaxed a bit."

"Hope so."

The external speaker on the M50 comes to life, "Shawn Ryan, you've got an incoming call from some lizard or another." Duncan seems to be into a rather less than complimentary subroutine.

"Who is it, Duncan?"

"Kree'Gna, who else?"

"Um, I'd rather you delete that little euphemism from your database."

"Which one?"

"The one about an incoming call from a lizard."

"Database entry deleted as required."

"Patch it to my mobi, please."

Duncan sourly says, "Patched," just as the mobi chimes.

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

His expression seems formal, but I can't really see the environment to gauge the reason, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I will be ready to depart for Sol again in one hour."

"I'll be there, though it is rather stormy here right now."

He nods, "I can wait an additional hour if needed."

"I'll be there," I reply, thinking about the deluge outside and wondering if my M50 can make it or if I need an ark.

…..

The hangar doors have slid open and I look at the downpour that has only slightly diminished. Preflight is complete, but I have to wonder just how well the light racer will handle in this soup. I should have left yesterday before this had a chance to arrive, but that's all shoulda, coulda, woulda now.

"Duncan, latest weather sat for the Torre Nor, please."

"Ya, sure, you betcha," Duncan says with just a hint of attitude. The display energizes and I see a time-lapse holo of the front moving by, the angriest of the thunderheads towering eighteen thousand meters, but already safely to my east.

"Hey, Dean," I shout down to the man standing a safe distance away. It looks like he can't hear me, I guess I won't make the foolish remark about having him clean up my wreckage before Jurdi gets back. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I wanted to share that one in the first place.

I bump the directionals and lift us into the air, then with a five degree up angle, I head for the rain. Contact! Lift suffers instantly and I'm struggling to even keep level as the force of tons of water bear down on my little ship. I fight the sudden loss of lift with my directionals and begin angling for a steep climb... sharper and sharper the angle becomes until I'm accelerating straight up. Gravity has me seeing red, but I dare not ease off of fighting for greater altitude as quickly as I can.

I'm into the clouds.

The rain is easing. Quickly, flight becomes more normal and I'm able to reconfigure for a more comfortable ascent.

I'm through the clouds into a deep blue sky that is rapidly growing darker as I climb. Soon, the Great Banner replaces the clouds overhead and beneath me the white billows and anvils of the storm-front's tops look quite peaceful and placid.

"Shawn Ryan is calling Kree'Gna."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Are you in space yet?"

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren. I'll be at the Embassy in twenty stamin."

"Very good, my friend. I will be waiting a klick off the dorsal spires."

"I'll be there shortly. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

He answers, "Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

…..

"Xi'An A7764 and Terran 171-4DLR17, this is Grimms Leader from ArcCorp System Security Division. Please stand to and identify yourselves and your purpose in this system."

We have just entered Stanton after being at Sol for a day and a half of mind numbing boredom.

"Kree'Gna, Deputy Diplomat for Emperor Kray on Imperial diplomatic business."

The patrol that has stopped us isn't the Navy, after all, this is Stanton. Instead, today it is a five ship security patrol from ArcCorp, backed up by a Hurston Dynamic's tagged corporate Idris, floating about fifteen klicks out.

My turn, "Shawn Ryan, registered with Xeno Affairs as a Xi'An diplomatic contractor, escorting Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna."

"Please stand by for confirmation."

This is one of the minor drawbacks of Stanton; while this is UEE space, the Corporations generally rule here. Patrols are corporate employees or sub-contractors, the Advocacy is around, but usually isn't very public about it. Likewise the Navy.

"7764, Diplomat Kreega, you are confirmed. LR17, Shawn Ryan, we need to do an inspection scan of your craft, please power down your shields and weapons and stand by."

"Duncan, please power down shields and weapons."

"You got it, boss." The systems wink off and Duncan comments, "Getting too lazy to reach out and touch the glas to turn them off yourself, huh?"

"Yup, that's why I have you."

"I would say it's hard to imagine that you've sunk so far, but it isn't all that hard, really."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Bite m e."

"LR17, Boss wants to know if you will sell that M50? He says he'll swap you a '41 Phoenix for it, straight up."

"He a Cup fan or something?"

"Nah, I bet he figures it would be worth three or four times that to some of the engineering companies on ArcCorp... off the record, I bet he wants to get the '44 Phoenix as soon as it hits the showroom and figures he won't get as much trade-in from a dealer as he'll want."

"Well, I don't know what I would do with a pleasure boat, I'm not likely to be able to do what I do now with an albatross like that."

"Hey, I've asked like I was told to; no harm, no foul. Anyway," he takes a breath and launches into the usual canned speech... or perhaps it's more of a sales pitch: "Welcome to Stanton, we hope you enjoy your stay. Services and shops on ArcCorp are especially suited to knowledgeable pilots like yourselves, please feel free to visit and purchase any of your many needs and wants. You're both free to go."

I almost expect him to end the sales pitch with "Have a nice day" but fortunately he spares us this final insult.

"Throttles up?" I ask on our sequence.

Sounding just a hint impatient, Kree'Gna replies, "Yes, throttles up."

The Xress' thrusters all glow to life and the craft accelerates away from me. I light my engines up, too, and flash merrily after him.

…..

Once again, Hurston is close enough to our crossing lane that I can see the haze that dominates its atmosphere. We are looking at the planet with almost three quarters of it in the night side, whole areas lit with the cheap pink light of ionized sodium arcs. What a hell that must be, even for those who will be allowed to go home at the end of their year.

I look away, instead soaking in the awesome view of the Great Banner. Many of my favorite constellations are missing here, especially the Great Goose, but I do find the nose "star" from her head, the M81 galaxy, and it feels just a bit relaxing to see it floating there... so near looking but really so very very far away. I wonder if we will someday find a jump that links us with it or any other galaxy other than our own. Bet it won't be until long after I'm gone.

The jump to Pelles is now only a couple hours away, how I wish we were there... nothing good ever happens in Stanton... heck, nothing at all ever happens out here.

…..

We arrive at the Pelles jump point to find a small line and a six craft merc patrol that has Hurston Dynamics authority tags.

In front of us a pair of Hull-C with a pretty good escort of four Super Hornets and two 325s is staged to cross over. The two Origins go first, maybe twenty seconds apart, then the Hornets follow, one after another at maybe fifteen seconds delay. As the last one crosses into the anomaly, a Reclaimer with its ancient Python gunship escort slips up behind us and joins the line. After giving the fighters about two minutes to secure the area the first Hull-C is sucked into that magical rabbit hole... the second follows just over a minute later.

It isn't all that uncommon for there to be a line here.

"7764 and LR17, this is Pardner representing Hurston's security group. Ya'll identify yourselves, please."

I guess things are a little less rigorous on this side of the system today. Does seem odd that they don't have our data from the ArcCorp patrol, but who am I to explain the what or why of these folks.

"Kree'Gna, Deputy Diplomat for Emperor Kree on Imperial diplomatic business."

Before I can answer, Pardner comments, "Nice ship, looks fast."

Kree'Gna's silence speaks more than words might. He is probably tired and not really in the mood for any inane banter.

There is no reason to think something is wrong.

"Pardner, This is TOG in LR17. Name is Shawn Ryan, I'm registered with Xeno Affairs as a..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know all that, just checkin'. Ya'll go on through."

I power up my jump drive, setting the emitter to the jump's needed frequency by the navicomp's presets for Stanton to Pelles. and my sensors pick up Kree'Gna's jump emitter. I usually enter ten seconds before him to be in position on the other side, and I throttle up to hit the opening jump.

There is a brilliant flash maybe a few hundred meters above the jump point and my emitter status starts blinking the warning: Wave Collapse!

A jump mine!

It takes just a moment to know this is an ambush. "Kree'Gna, GO!" I scream, turning towards the patrol who are likewise turning towards us, their lasers dancing across the short gulf between our craft. Kree'Gna's thruster's glow brilliant blue and he is accelerating into a six or seven G flash as he shoots out into space past the now absent jump point.

I also push my throttle to try to rush past the fighters, but behind me the gunship has opened fire and I lose my port thruster before I even can get moving.

But move I do, and though now I'm on just the starboard engine, I am still accelerating after Kree'Gna's ghostly trail. Sensors show that at least two of them are also trying to follow the rapidly disappearing trail, maybe I need to play with them first...

I have a surplus of power from the now unused left powerplant, my twin Ominski VI start spitting light at one of them, his shields flashing from the strikes.

"Duncan, rear shields at full."

Not a moment too soon, as I am the center of attention for the remaining four fighters. I dance for all I'm worth, but if I'm to make sure the two pursuing Kree'Gna aren't going to keep their effort up, I have to stay pretty much on the same course.

Something back there is using a mass driver and my sensors show it is right on my six. I have to make him earn this... nose down suddenly, looping around at him with so much force that I'm seeing red... need to be careful or I'll black out...

Throttle back enough to hold me in the red a bit longer and then return me to normal, running right back at the pursuit.

"Duncan! Shields forward!"

Laser fire dances across the void, back and forth I go, never letting them get a missile lock, never letting them get a clear shot on a dead stick. I may have lost half the thrust, but I dance her for all she is worth and she flies circles around them.

Part of me knows this dance is just to give Kree'Gna time. I can't keep it up indefinitely and I no longer have the raw thrust to get away. Maybe if I get back to the traffic lane I can get help from someone.

"Missile lock," Duncan announces emotionlessly.

I corkscrew us, trying to break the lock... but my luck seems to have run out.

"Four missiles, all locked."

I turn us away from them and hit my remaining afterburner.

"Fuel limited, you may not be able to roast all the darts if you continue at this rate."

"And I'll be dead if I sit still," I begin, only to realize that I'm taking fire from above... a Gladius is even with me and raining slugs down into my path...

"Shield generator damaged, shields have failed!"

I feel like I've been here before.

I dodge left and down, evading the incoming rounds. "Missile range?" I ask.

"Thousand meters... Nine-fifty."

I reach to my throat, press the MUD packet, and feel the juice jab into my neck. I have just thirty seconds or so before I begin to loose control. I start a twisting corkscrew away from the closest fighters.

"Missiles?"

"Five hundred meters."

"Nice riding with you, Duncan."

"Have a nice trip."

"Eject now, now..." and before I finish with a third "now" there is a loud Chank! as the canopy blasts away. A heartbeat later, the morthozine propellant launches my chair and I rocket from the dying M50... the chair a ballistic missile; but as g-forces and the MUD in my bloodstream threaten to knock me out, I push off from the solid seat, changing its vector and mine also.

I'm dimly aware of the huge fireball where my M50 must have been, then I distantly feel searing pains in my right hand and left leg. My tumbling has protected my helmet, though, so whatever damage I've taken, I won't die. At least not yet. I hope. My mind is simplifying. The MUD is doing me. I'm not sure where...

Banner is beautiful. Welcoming...


	23. Chapter 22 – The SS Minnow

I can feel pressure... it's all around my head and nearly choking me at the throat. There are several sharp pains there, in my throat, that seem vaguely familiar. My eyes won't work... in fact, neither does the rest of my body.

Through the haze my brain is aware of a rhythm, almost tidal in nature, surging and easing. It isn't a sound as such, I can't hear anything any more than I can see it. Still, like an internal touch, the waves go on.

…..

I'm not sure how long I've been like this, but I just realized that I'm recovering from MUD. I still can't see, but I can hear some and sense my face and scalp... and the pressures and pains now make sense; I am on a vessel which is large enough to have a "MUD bay" but either too small for the full kit or too cheap to spring for it. While I still can't feel my extremities, I know my body must be strapped down onto a common bed, a contraption holding my head and neck still. It also holds tubes inserted into arteries and veins in my neck, while the machine it is connected to draws my blood and runs it through a scrubber that functions kinda like a super kidney.

These are the consequences of my choosing to introduce some survivability to my circumstances... lots of pilots these days don't even do Antifreeze, much less MUD. The contraption that immobilizes me from the neck up is very uncomfortable, but I know that I was likely dead out there without the MUD chemicals this thing now tries to remove from my flesh.

…..

"Can you hear me now?" a loud and rather scratchy woman's voice asks. Were I to guess, she is all but shouting in my ear.

"Yes, I can hear you."

"Good, 'bout damn time. Open your eyes," she orders. The amount of attitude in that tone of voice almost makes me resist, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I discover that I can indeed see again.

On the other hand, maybe I was better off with eyes closed; standing over me is a large and ill featured woman who seems to wear a mishmash of gear that makes no sense, at least not without an explanation.

She is dressed in a black teeshirt under badly dirty coveralls; they might once have been blue, but now I'm not really sure. Perched atop her head is an old cap, maybe blue originally, with some kind of emblem with a circle and odd devices on four opposite sides. From beneath the hat, her hair tumbles about her like an overfull garbage container, I suspect it has never met a brush it couldn't defeat. She seems to have a scowl attached to her expression with mardon glue, and when she opens her mouth, her breath seems to carry odors not far removed from those at that old RRS septic sludge pond. As for aromas, the rest of her smells like she may not have had an introduction to a shower in the last standard... or maybe it's a dozen or more of them.

"I'm Claire," she announces. "Dirt-side they call me Fat Claire, but here they call me 'Skipper'. That's what I expect if you aren't saying 'Yes, Ma'am' or 'No, Ma'am'. Got it?"

I'm about to answer when she just starts back up, "This here is the Minnow. The SS Minnow, to be effn' exact."

I dig back through my memory; I'm sure I've heard that somewhere. The "SS" part especially seems to ring a bell... I can almost see a huge bearded face telling me that it means "Steam Ship" but that the Minnow is a diesel so it should have been the MV Minnow or something similar.

Big Jake! He was the enforcer in my cell block, must be forty-five years ago. He was talking about some 2d vid he loved to watch... it made him laugh so much even after our grueling days in the RRS assembly lines. Hmmm... what was the name of that stupid vid?

Well, I'm sure it will come to me, for now, I would guess we are not in a boat.

Fat Claire resumes her monologue, "This here is MY ship, and without it, you would still be a floatin' out in the black. Got me?"

"Thanks for..."

"You keep a civil tongue in your head!" She yells, getting her face far closer to mine than I consider sanitary. The more she talks at this range, the more nauseated I become; I'm having to exhibit unexpected self-control to prevent me from vomiting all over her.

"I don't want your thanks, I want the MONEY, honey."

"Well, I'm not exactly..."

"If you ain't effn' rollin in it, honey, you ain't in the effn' game," now her face is close enough that I have the unsettling realization that not only does she have a mustache, but that a goodly amount of that hair actually originates in her nose. She is undaunted, "Got that?" she breathes, odors of decay permeating the air. "The boys that want you, THEY are effn' rollin' in it, honey."

I'm still restrained, there is no escape... but I am somewhat curious, "You mean Hornek Tish?"

"YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS 'SKIPPER' OR 'MAAM' OR I WILL HAVE YOU FLOGGED! IS THAT CLEAR?"

I am sure I will lose my hearing from this much audio abuse; likewise, I'm sure my sense of smell will likely lose several degrees of sensitivity. However, I don't say this, what I do say is, "Yes, Ma'am. Do you mean Hornek Tish, Ma'am?"

"That's better. And it turns out he ain't the only one, there is someone else with deep pockets just wanting to shovel me a pile of credits for you alive."

I groan, realizing that there might be things worse than freezing to death in the void.

A rather tall man in an ancient jumpsuit approaches Clair deferentially, "Excuse me, Skipper, but Mary Ann needs permission to speak to Dave."

"Yeah, okay, Professor. See to this clod, the autodoc seems to be havin' trouble with his leg just when everyone suddenly wants him on ONE piece."

"Yes, Skipper. Thank you," he fawns as she turns and heads out of sight. He bends to look at something I can't see; moments later I can feel a new pain in my left leg.

I express myself very clearly, "OWWW! Stop that!"

"I am sorry, but our autodoc is a combination of parts from a 2843 Auran Autodoc Model 450C, a Micro..."

"Am I supposed to be keeping track?" I ask in blunt interruption.

"Well, no, but I thought you might be interested in all the components since their incompatibilities and how I overrode them contributes to its current difficulties."

"Which are?"

"It is trying to create a serviceable replacement."

"For what, exactly?"

"Ah, you can't tell, can you?"

"No," I answer, trying to keep most of my exasperation out of my voice. "Would you care to tell me?"

"Ah, yes. You see, you have lost your left leg below the knee. Space debris moving at extreme velocity obliterated it, probably remains from the annihilation of your former craft, an M50 if I'm not mistaken. I would guess from the ragged nature of the wound when we found you that the offending material was both heavy and possessing a very sharp edge."

There is a sense of shock as his words sink in. "Yeah, I had an M50," is all I can manage.

"As I was saying, our autodoc is having a problem synthesizing the hypoallergenic carbon fiber needed to replicate your missing leg and foot bones. It will take some tweaking, do you mind if I continue?"

I sigh, "No, guess not. Go for it."

"Thank you. The Skipper will be glad when you are mended."

"Yeah, so I can be handed off to the highest bidder."

"Ah, you are to be sold as a slave? Perhaps the Skipper could be persuaded to keep you for herself. She is a passable owner. Do you have any serviceable skills?"

It takes me a few moments to segregate what he has just said into its proper meanings. "Does that mean she owns you also?"

"Yes, sir! And let me tell you, it could be a lot worse."

"Do I want to ask why?"

"Oh, I don't mind. My former owner was a cruel brute. The Skipper rescued me."

"She bought you?"

A loud and obnoxious voice breaks in, "No, he came with the ship." Fat Clair has returned. "This here was Boogeyman's ship; woaho took me on just after I got out of Quarterdeck, musta thought I was property even though I wasn't." She pauses and I see both pain and hatred race across her face before she resumes, "I killed that puchast the second time he tried to rape me; rammed a fastener-driver up under his chin and out the top of his skull."

Somehow, I'm not completely surprised at this description of events.

Claire continues, musing, "Still have his skull somewhere."

The Professor obsequiously addresses her, "Skipper, glad you're back! I was just telling this person how good a owner you are and..."

"Shut it!" she orders and he immediately does so. She looks my way and says, "Well, Dave thinks we should just off ya and sell the corpse like we were supposed to in the beginning. You wanna be dead already?"

"No... Ma'am." I add the latter word rather hastily.

"I see you're catchin' on." She looks over at the Professor and says, "He reminds me a little of Thurston Howell III; after all, he is gonna make us rich!"

"That's great!" he beams, then asks, "How is that, Skipper?

"There are now three parties bidding for him. I've already heard a million credits if he is alive and mostly in one piece."

"You are the best bargainer, Skipper."

She looks at me, "Whatcha got that makes ya worth so much?" She chuckles, "Sure ain't your looks."

"I just know how to piss folks off, I guess."

WHHHAMMMM!

My head rings and it doesn't seem my eyes are working very well. It feels like a smallish asteroid just hit me on the side of my head.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT HOW YOU ADDRESS ME?"

My headache blossoms as the noise seems to vibrate through my still ringing skull.

"Ma'am."

My eyes are starting to work again, only to recognize that she is glaring at me with her face again barely thirty centimeters from mine.

"YOU GONNA OBEY ME OR NOT?" she veritably screams, spittle striking my cheeks and forehead.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good! See that you REMEMBER that, Thurston."

"Ma'am, my name is Shawn R..."

WHHHAMMMM!

Things are swirling... now darkening some... and I seem to smell blood...

…..

I wake to a headache massive enough to scuttle a Bengal. I hesitate to open my eyes, but do anyway. There stand both the Professor and a wan youngish woman who seems nevertheless intense.

"Let me guess," I venture, "Mary Anne?"

She simply nods and makes some odd gestures with her hands. Next to her, the Professor also nods and says, "She says, 'You observe correctly.'"

"She can't speak?"

"Not without Skipper's permission." My expression must reflect my confusion, so he continues, "Skipper caught her trying to call for help not long after we rescued her. I offered to make a shock collar that would train her to keep her from speaking unless Skipper activates a remote release button."

My opinion of the Professor sinks markedly from its already rather pathetic state, and my expression must reflect that. Mary Anne does more motions and the Professor chimes in, "Oh, and Mary Anne says that you shouldn't think I'm evil... wait, was he really thinking that?" Again she gestures and he resumes, "You shouldn't think I was being bad to suggest this, Skipper was originally going to cut out her tongue."

That does offer me a bit of different perspective, "Well, I'm sorry that you can't speak now, Mary Anne. So, can I ask what you..."

A loud klaxon veritably rumbles its warning throughout the ship and both of them sprint suddenly away, leaving me to assess my situation alone. I would guess from the sensations in my extremities that the MUD cleansing is almost done, but I'm obviously not only secured at the head and neck, but there is some form of restraint holding my torso and limbs down also. My right hand feels very odd, and my left leg seems likewise to be there but not... can't really explain the sensation.

The alarm dies out and I start to wonder what it might have been about. My hearing does, however, seem to be working fine and I soon recognize the distant sounds of some ballistic weapons, maybe a point defense, firing up. The Reclaimer is a solid ship; in addition to being rather durable, vibrations and sound travel through the tough old frame, turning any open area into an audio echo chamber. Now I hear the gears from a missile battery as it tries to track a...

THUDDD!

Um, I wonder if our shields are doing okay, that sounded like a missile impact... one a wee bit too close to my location by the sound of it.

The chatter of chain guns and occasional sound of a missile pod reloading are pretty steady, not at all a reassuring sound since it must reflect a prolonged attack.

Suddenly, I feel rather than hear a rather large blast wash, the shock wave almost visible in the walls around me and everything not attached rattles as if a tectonic quake were happening. I also seem to have a sense of disorientation... though nothing would explain that... well, maybe if the entire ship pitched or rolled the momentum change might explain it.

Mass drivers continue their ballistic assault on whomever. There is another Thuddd, though much more distant from the sound of it.

As quickly as it started, the guns seem to fall silent.

In fact, the whole ship seems to have stilled, I can hear the fans in the ventelation shaft and the hum of the grav gens somewhere below my feet... er... well, since I'm not standing, I guess that would be 'below my bed'.

The entrance slides open and an unexpectedly ashen Fat Claire walks in.

"Ma'am," I say, hoping to avoid any more immediate pain, at least until I can defend myself.

"Just who in the hells are you? Really?"

"Shawn Ryan, Ma'am."

"I effn' know that. I want to know why these folks are so hot to get you?"

"Well, Ma'am, if I were to guess, I would say I unintentionally screwed up some Senator's plan to start a war with the Xi'An."

She sags into a handy chair, her weight seems want to crush the poor furnishing even though it appears to be made of durable metallic piping.

"Gods, I knew it was too good to be true."

"May I ask what, Ma'am?"

"Seven of 'em, all at once. Even a damn Super Hornet in there. That one left but his parting shot wuz to say he'd be back."

"That all, Ma'am? Felt like you got a big one in there somewhere."

Now the rest of the color drains from her features. She shakes her head and with unexpected weariness says, "No, that was my partner Dave. They took out his Python gunship... he had an old corvette powersource in there. Nearly blinded me when it went. If he'd been in front of us, we might not be here."

The door opens and the Professor steps quickly in, looking with some concern at Claire. "Skipper, Mary Anne is moving us as ordered to a point an astronomical unit above Pelles' north pole. We are approaching .1c, should be at cruise in three minutes. I am concerned about a high speed coronal hole currently streaming..."

"Shut it! Get the shields up to enough power to hold, we might be there a couple of days. Are you sure we can relay securely from there?"

"Relatively sure, Skipper."

She sighs in a disappointed manner, "Well, do what you can. We have to live long enough to arrange to trade this monster for Imps and then fade away safely."

…..

"Okay, Thurston, try that." The Professor has adopted Clair's misnomer, but for now I'm less interested in arguing the point than I am in whether the fabrication attached to my left leg just below the knee will be serviceable or not. It is marginally connected to my nerves, at least the control nerves, but it seems that most of the sensation network is either not connected right or there isn't that much in the gizmo to get sensory information from.

Well, here goes... I lean forward and am distantly aware that the "foot" is flexing as my weight shifts onto that leg. I do at least make sure that I've got my left hand firmly grasping the railing that runs alongside the medbay.

"Good," the Professor says encouragingly, "now put all your weight on it... can you feel anything?"

"Kinda dull, like the worst case of my leg being asleep."

"Well, I don't have the..."

"I know," I interrupt, "But you have done a remarkable job piecing this thing together, just like that autodoc."

He looks at me strangely, as if aware of something unexpected. "What did you just say?"

"I said I think you've done a remarkable job piecing this medbay together, just like you did with that autodoc. Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is... well... wrong. I just feel different... like I got an extra ration of meat without needing to double work to make up for it."

"Now I don't understand," I admit.

Still looking puzzled, he replies, "Neither do I."

With all my weight now on the prosthetic leg, I gingerly let go of the railing and balance myself.

"Yes, that works," he says with one eyebrow raised as if I'm only part way there. Of course, he would be right, the real test comes when I try to take a step with my right leg. I'm sure I should fall down with so little sensation, but my left holds and half the step is complete.

"Yes, good. Now the left."

I lean away from the bionics and swing the leg forward. The foot seems to plant fine and I'm sure enough to start to shift my weight...

It seems like slow motion... down I go, narrowly missing part of the autodoc's turret with my head.

"I think I see where I need to adjust," the Professor offers helpfully.

…..

I'm approaching the Minnow's bridge, Mary Anne under my right arm and the Professor on my left, both helping me negotiate walking the passageways, stepping through the hatches without hanging my feet up on the coaming, and generally orienting me to the cramped quarters of the Reclaimer's insides.

This is the second time we have done this routine, this morning... well, I think of it as morning since I woke up just before, we did the same circuit.

A somewhat familiar klaxon sounds and Clair's voice comes from the bridge, "All hands on deck! Trouble!"

The two immediately abandon me, but I manage to stay upright and hobble onto the bridge itself.

Mary Anne takes what must be the pilot's seat, hands flying over the console and a couple of auxiliary glas as they present themselves. I'm not sure where the Professor has gone, but I do hear the sound of the Minnow's point defenses powering up. Fat Clair settles herself in what must be a firing chair, a small helmet having appeared almost from nowhere with what is likely a targeting screen across the glas face.

"Close and blast protect all exposed portals," she commands and Mary Anne does as ordered. The expanse of view we have is obscured by the large metallic shield that descends with the sound of many gears and the clank of bolts sliding home and locking it into place.

"Professor," Clair yells, "What have you got?"

A speaker near Mary Anne carries his answer, "Skipper, we have four craft that I'm sure of, computer says they are Loaqlaa'..."

"What the hells are they?"

"Banshees?" he asks, trying to find common terms

Clair's expression sours, I suspect she knows what I know... Banshee are well armed deadly craft. "Just our luck. Anything else?"

"Not sure, I keep getting radiation from a point almost directly in front of us, but about thirty klicks out; sensors don't seem to find anything there, but I bet there is something."

"Are the four Banshees together?"

"No, Skipper, they are arrayed in a pyramid, three below and one above."

"Are any of them in range?" she starts to ask, but a large speaker just above Clair's head is suddenly blaring what sounds like human speech with a very heavy Xi'An accent.

"I am Mish Eebek," the mature female voice announces, "Commander of the Xi'An Imperial Frigate Dagg Nogg. We require immediate release of our contractor, Shawn Ryan. Lower your shields and power down your weapons or we will forcibly deconstruct your ship and rescue him ourselves. You have one standard minute to comply."

"You slinks can kiss my ass!" Clair shouts, and I wonder if she had an open channel. She looks around the room and spots me standing there by the door. "Thurston! Get your scrawny old butt over to the conn and tell them to back off!"

Mary Anne points to a slide out chair and after a quick limp I manage to somehow pull the seat out and fall onto it. In front of me are a lot of controls and a microphone. I look at it all and haven't found how to key up when Clair hollers, "Mary Anne, tell him what to use."

For the first time, I hear Mary Anne's voice; her words flowing in a pleasing, almost lilting manner as she says, "Shawn, see that blue button to the right of the grav controls? That is how you key up to speak into that microphone."

"Thanks," I say, trying to smile her way.

"Don't mention..."

"That's quite enough! Shut up, girl."

I would so like to swat Claire, but now is not the time. I reach across the small panel that includes two covered switches... the emergency grav shutdown... and as my finger rests on the key a desperate plan forms.

"Xi'An craft, this is Shawn Ryan. Do you read me, over?" I say, hoping that Claire won't know how inappropriate my greeting is. Actually, I don't remember the officer's name, but I hope she is aware that things are not as they should be.

"Shawn Ryan, I am Commander Mish Eebek. I have an Imperial Directive that we recover your person and transfer you to the Xi'An Embassy in Terra."

I look over and catch Mary Anne's eye, letting my fingers hover for just a moment above the grav system kill switches. For barely a second, her eyes grow big; she glances quickly at Claire and then back at me. She gives a slight nod and just the hint of a smile escapes the corner of her mouth.

Now I key again and reply, "Mish Eebek, I greet you. Please relay this message to Diplomat Athas Mgren: I formally appoint Jurdi Abboud of Terra my sole heir, please..."

Claire screams angrily, "You jackass! Stop that!"

Without looking, I hear Fat Claire unbuckling from her seat. I finish to the Xi'An, "Please forward all I am due to her on my death."

My finger leaves the blue mic key button and slaps the covers away from the red emergency grav kill switches. I flip both of them and push the seat hard backwards; I'm quickly launching into space.

Apparently alarmed, the Professor yells from wherever, "We just lost gravity!"

Claire has discovered the fact for herself as she is now propelled by momentum towards where I had just been sitting.

For a moment, I fear she will reset the gravity, but Mary Anne has decided to throw in her lot with my action; she twists her controller and the right side of the ship dips quickly down. Without gravity or any restraint, Claire slams unceremoniously into the wide viewport, her momentum converted into a bounce that has her suddenly following me as I reach the back of the bridge.

"Skipper! We have lost gravity!" the Professor calls again.

Her face twisted in hatred, the rapidly approaching Claire looks nothing short of murderous. "I'll kill you, Thurston!" she screams, "but first I'll rip your balls off with my bare hands!"

I pull my way down the passageway away from the conn, my malevolent pursuit close enough that I can hear her raspy breath behind me when she isn't spewing invectives.

Ahead is the cargo bay hatch, left partly opened from someone's sloppiness.

I push through the door, but have the sense to grab one of the side rails and pull myself along the wall.

BAMM! Claire slams into the same door, barely two meters behind me. I grab a safety line and push off hard into the room like a swimmer leaving poolside. Looking back, I taunt her, "How ya gonna get me now, witch?"

Claire pushes off from the combing, in her rage launching herself directly at where she expects my momentum to carry me... but she hasn't bothered to grab a tether.

I press the emergency retract on the safety line and the freewheeling winch on the wall suddenly brakes and starts winding the line in. For a second or more, I'm struggling to keep the tether clip from being ripped from my hands, but it finally arrests my movement and begins to pull me back. Claire, and what must be in excess of 150 kilos of personal mass, has no such restraint and continues to fly towards the back wall of the hold.

I reach the hatch just as she violently impacts the far wall. Cursing horribly, she manages to turn around and shoves off for the return trip. I slip through the hatch, closing and dogging it down... effectively locking her in the cargo hold.

"What is going on in here?" the Professor calls from the bridge end of the passageway.

Suddenly, gravity returns and I fall in a heap onto the deck plates.

"Where is the Skipper?!" his alarm is evident as he begins running my way.

"Safe in the cargo hold."

I rise to my feet just before he reaches me.

"Get out of my way!" he shouts, trying to sound commanding. He reaches out to push me aside, but doesn't really know much about how to actually bully someone.

I however, know how to land a good punch and the professor's unguarded stomach takes as good a shot as I've given anyone in a decade or more. I feel pain, it is the same hand that got hurt after I ejected, but the blow crumples the man.

Claire has reached the sealed hatch and is screaming for my blood. If she ever has a chance to do half of what she is promising, there won't be much of me left to save.

The Professor looks up at me and whispers, "Why?"

"I want to be free. She's safe in there for now."

He shakes his head, "She can cut through that door with no trouble, there are torches in the maint locker." He looks stricken, "If you don't let me help her, she'll think we are in on it... she'll kill us all now."

I look around, what can I do to keep her from... murder... my eyes light on the old lever set into the wall nearby. The cargo dump lever. The old "what is in my hold ain't worth my life, I'll give the pirates what they want" lever. It would be murder, perhaps... or maybe self defense.

The Professor shakily rises and lurches towards the sealed hatch.

I reach over to the lever and command, "Stop!"

He does, turning to see me as I pull down the shaft. The ship shudders violently and Clair's screams of rage change for a few seconds into one of abject terror before she is suddenly silent.

"You killed her..." the Professor's voice fades and I realize that Mary Anne is standing there behind me. I turn to her and see a first dazzling smile.

From the conn a loud Xi'An voice calls, "Reclaimer, explain yourself!"

"The Xi'An!" I exclaim and we are suddenly sprinting... okay, I'm not sprinting, rather hobble hopping... back to the bridge. It's obvious that we have been taking fire, though so far our shields have absorbed the energy. I do see two sectors with no more than 20% left, at least it seems no mass weapons have been used. "Mary Anne, take weapons offline!"

She glances my way, puzzled, but does what I've said. I reach the mic I'd used earlier and key up, "Commander... um... please forgive me but I have forgotten your name, Shē'sueren! We've had an unexpected change of command, please give us a minute to gather ourselves and assess the situation. We will power down shields as soon as we see your craft return to the pyramid formation."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I am Commander Mish Eebek. I grant you three standard stamin, but if you move or power your weapons back up, we will attack again."

"Understood and thank you, Commander Mish Eebek."

"What are we going to do?" the Professor asks plaintively.

"First, get her neck thing off," I answer, pointing at Mary Anne. "I need to hear from her, too."

At first, his expression is rebellious. Then, almost as if a light has gone on, his countenance changes and he says, "Yes, Skipper."

"I need the sensors on the main display, please."

Mary Anne's hands fly over her console and the sensor results quickly appear. The Banshees have indeed moved back into a pyramid and I order, "Shields down, please."

I'm beginning to orient to the way things are laid out; a lot of it is normally at the pilot's position, but right now, well I seem to feel like I need to take control, at least until...

"Thank God!" Mary Anne exclaims and suddenly is right up in front of me. She plants an impassioned French kiss on me that would light a puddle of water on fire. "And thank you, my hero," she breathes as she pulls away.

"What now, Skipper?" the Professor patiently asks.

"First, let's get this settled: do you both want me in charge?"

"I have no say," he pronounces as if it were obvious.

Mary Anne has no such qualms, "Yes! You rescued us."

"Well, you rescued me, too. Besides, Professor, you have as much say as anyone else."

"Slave, remember?"

"To whom?"

"Well, you defeated the last Skipper, so you are my master now.

"I don't think so. You're freed."

"That isn't how it works."

"If I am your master, then I have the right to set you free, don't I?"

"Well, I guess technically..."

"I don't own slaves, it's a matter of principal; so if I own you now, I'm setting you free. There, it's done. Now, I want your opinion."

Mary Anne grins at the Professor, "See, I told you he was special."

He nods. Looking back at me, he says, "Then I still think you are the Skipper."

"Okay. Let me see what the Xi'An will let..."

Over the open comms, a new voice declares, "Xi'An vessels, this is the UEE Naval Vessel Pride of New Austin. You are to withdraw from engaging the UEE tagged vessel SS Minnow."

"Pride of New Austin, this is the Commander of the Xi'An Imperial Frigate Dagg Nogg. We are on Imperial business in unclaimed space and are not currently attacking the Minnow."

"Dagg Nogg, you will withdraw. This vessel is under the protection of the UEE Navy."

I decide this is a good point to key up, "Um, Pride of New Austin, we are working this out just fine. Thanks for the offer of protection, but I work for the Xi'An and we are making acceptable arrangements."

The line is unexpectedly dead and when I glance over at Mary Anne, I get an odd sensation that she is afraid.

Finally, a different voice enters the conversation, "Say again, SS Minnow?"

"We are just fine, thank you for the offer of assistance."

"To whom am I speaking?"

"Shawn Ryan, Captain of the Minnow... at least until I can change the name or sell this thing."

Silence returns and I notice that Mary Anne has raised the shields.

"What?" I ask her and she pales before she answers, "One of the bidders for you was someone from the Navy."

"Oh. Well, that explains a lot."

She nods and I ask the Professor, "Would you mind manning the point defenses in case we need it?"

"Right away, Skipp... oh, um, yeah, I will. Thanks for asking." He has that strange look on his face... the same one he had earlier.

"SS Minnow, I see that your craft is registered to Claire Smith. Is the owner there?"

I think about the legal reasons for taking the ship, and for just a moment none come to mind.

Then I hear Mary Anne quietly say, "Slaves."

My turn, "Under UEE law, relief of slaves from illegal imprisonment constitutes grounds to seize a vessel. The former owner had been keeping two slaves under brutal conditions. Said owner also attempted to sell me into slavery and I objected. In single combat, I prevailed. The spoils are mine, I have freed the slaves and claim all rights to the remaining property including this vessel. So you are speaking to the owner, I just haven't gotten it to a proper UEE port to transfer the registration."

No response from the line, but I spin the sensors up to full and there off our port flank sits an Idris and several Hornets. They are holding a position about twenty klicks out. I also see that the Banshees have repositioned closer to the Dagg Nogg, making a loose claw pointing back towards the Pride of New Austin.

The silence breaks, but again, we have a new voice, "Well, now ain't this a happy party. I'd say we all bid on the bastard and ol' Fatso is again holding out for a higher bid. Am I right?"

Our ventral scanners are picking up movement right at the edge of our range. Ventral is likely the Reclaimer's softest side, so I ask Mary Anne, "Would you turn us over so whomever this is is coming from our top side?"

She smiles and I feel the massive thrusters execute a fairly swift inversion. She also says, "I think that was the Super Hornet pilot we had the shootout with last time."

I have an insight about the Navy and play my hunch, "Pride of New Austin, is Captain Priest available to speak?"

"Very good, Mr. Ryan," comes the quick answer.

I look at the sensors and see that whoever is approaching, they must have fifteen ships, though none is as big as either frigate. I continue to the Captain, "Well, I would say you can let the newcomers take advantage of the standoff and shoot us up pretty bad, or you can make a truce with Commander Eebek and we can take these pirates on as a combined force."

"I still like the way you think, Ryan. Just wish you were doing it in a Navy uniform. Truce, Dagg Nogg?"

Though her accent is thick with what I'm sure is excitement, she tries to calmly answer, "Truce is agreed, Pride of New Austin."

"What the hells is going on here?" newcomer asks.

Emboldened by the allies I seem to have, it is my turn, "You were about to turn tail and run, weren't you?"

"Who the hells am I talking to? Where is Fat Claire?"

"She went EVA without a space suit. I'm Shawn Ryan, I believe you were looking for me."

"You can die, you traitorous whoaho!"

His ships all accelerate to attack speeds.

"Shields dorsal!"

"Got it!" Mary Anne crisply responds.

Missiles are in the air... well. They are in space, but I mean the same thing. The Professor says as much, "Missiles inbound!"

"Chaff and flares!"

"Chaff and flares away!"

I notice that the Hornets and Banshees are no longer static, diving into the fray with what can only be abandon.

Mary Anne is also paying attention and we are taking as much evasive action as this lumbering tub can. Above me, I hear the swisshhh of missile exhaust on our hull as our own batteries open up with a vengeance.

"Use Claire's helmet to take control of the mass drivers," Mary Ann suggests and I see the logic of her idea. I scoot over to the recliner and grab the helmet, though I stay in my seat. It takes seconds to adjust the size down to where it fits me comfortably, next the stupid thing takes precious seconds more adjusting to my eyes. Then it all becomes clear and I'm tracking bogeys. Only I'm not shooting anything. "Why am I not shooting anything?" I ask.

"Her joystick is attached to the lounger. You'll need to sit there until the Professor rigs up a new one."

I reluctantly sink into the vile and stinky seat; my hand takes a minute to adjust to where the joystick is, then my index finger presses a trigger. I suddenly feel the power as twin chainguns spew slugs at an approaching Cutlass; its shields light up and I imagine I can see sparks flying from its armor as it tries to reach us. The Banshees working as a team, the four of them concentrating on targets, eating ships as if they were paper. The Hornets are paired up, doing almost as much damage from their own formations. Missiles seem to be flying everywhere and in the middle of it all, I'm spraying mass like guided shrapnel at targets in red.

One target moves in front of us and I hear a second pair or our Gatling guns open up... the target shatters quickly while its lasers pew pew off our shields. Missiles from our silos are again streaking towards targets and the flashes from explosions are all around.

Then it is over. Fifteen kills in an eternal two minutes... think what we could accomplish if our races could get along all the time.

"This is Pride of New Austin. Well, Shawn, Minnow isn't appropriate. Should we retag you, 'Shark'?"

"We're fine here. Thank you New Austin and Dagg Nogg. I don't think we would be here if you hadn't both happened along."

"Shawn Ryan," Commander Eebek says, "Are you ready to transfer to our craft now?"

"Thank you for your courtesy, Mish Eebek. However, I respectfully request permission to remain with the Minnow. Would you please escort my craft to Terra? With Captain Priest's permission, of course?"


	24. Chapter 23 – Imperial Servant

There is something to be said about taking your time doing things, like traveling across space... alone... in silence.

Now? Well, I'm already starting to regret having had the Professor take Mary Anne's collar off; the stupid thing must have acted like a dam, holding back the torrent of words the girl is capable of producing. I would even swear that she had been saving up all the words she would normally have said behind said collar... which was recently unceremoniously dumped out an airlock... and the deluge is now flooding every spare moment of time she is around either the Professor or I.

"Hey! I just found some of my old fav bands! Wanna hear them? I'm downloading all the streams that they ever did. Hey, Shawn, you're what, about sixty, sixty-five? I bet you like the same bands I do."

For just a moment, I consider answering, but before I can come to a decision, I realize she hasn't stopped speaking, "Oh, yeah, and when I was a teen I LOVED this group, Finger in the Socket. Oh, and The Tools and Vanduul Claw both had a couple big hits, too. And I just ADORED Laraki and the Pig when Marcy Arpen was singing."

She pauses and a foggy memory grabs me just long enough for me to ask, "Didn't she sing something really steamy called... um... something like 'Within'... or maybe it was 'Inside'?"

"Oh, I LOVED that song! I was so sure my dream guy would want me to sing 'Inside' to him before... well, after I had already I found him, of course... and we..." her voice fades unexpectedly away.

The bridge is quiet, and while it is a welcome chance for my ears to rest, I glance over at her and see a bit of regret or maybe longing. "Mary Anne, you will have plenty of chances."

"Svetlana Tolstoy."

"What?"

"My name is Svetlana Tolstoy, like the ancient writer. My friends called me Lana."

"Oh." It hadn't occurred to me to even ask if either of them had names other than what Fat Claire had called them. I glance the professor's way and ask, "And you, sir. Do you have a name to replace using 'the Professor'?"

"Boogyman called me 'Dog'."

"Well, before that."

"Mostly, just 'you' or 'you there'. No fancy people names, I've been a slave as long as I can remember. People name their slaves after whatever takes their fancy, kinda like pets; change owners, change names. Like it or get the crap beat out of you until you do... it's just easier to cooperate. If it's up to me, I kinda like Professor because I feel smarter."

"Then Professor it is until you say otherwise." I let my mind wander and my mouth follows along, "Either of you know why she changed your names?"

"It's my fault," Lana admits rather sheepishly. "My granddad loved ancient vids, especially the preholo stuff they called 'comedies'. One of his favorites was called 'Gilligan's Island'... I didn't like it all that much, but it started with a catchy tune that told a story, one about a trip that was supposed to be just a three hour tour. Well, when the Professor woke me up after all those years floating in space and Skip... um, Fat Claire realized I didn't have anyone left alive who remembered me, much less anyone willing to ransom me, she announced she was taking me as her slave and I commented something like 'so much for the three hour tour'. She didn't get it and wanted to know what I meant... for a while I was stubborn, but like you've already experienced how she was... well, back then she was even worse to me and I finally explained it.

"You know how sometimes people latch onto something strange that gives them a sense of who they are? Well, that's the way Sk... Fat Claire latched onto the characters from Gilligan's Island. At first, she tried calling me 'Gilligan' but I wasn't playing along and she decided that instead I was a straight-laced Mary Anne. The Professor is probably obvious. And of course, her ship had to be the 'SS Minnow', though I've never really understood what the 'SS' had to do with it."

…..

The UEEN patrol at the Castra end of the jump from Pelles is preoccupied with the Xi'An frigate when we arrive, but their focus changes rapidly when the Pride of New Austin communicates with their CO. The rest of our scans are at most perfunctory and our little fleet is quickly heading to Sherman on Castra II where I can register the Minnow in my name. Well, actually, I suspect that both the Dagg Nogg and the Pride of New Austin will remain in orbit.

Lana announces, "Call from that Priest guy. Wants to know if you are going to dock at one of the platforms to rent a runabout for the trip down. He also wants to know if you want someone to go down with you. I think that is some kind of hint for him to go with, but I really hope you pick me." She seems to be blinking a lot as she says this last bit... or maybe that is properly "batting her eyelashes"... I wonder just what hint I'm really getting here.

"It would be a terrible waste of fuel to take the Minnow dirtside," the Professor opines. "Skipper did it once to meet a buyer and was furious when she saw how fast the Reclaimer drinks fuel, both on descent and ascent."

"Makes sense," I agree, "Controlled thrust going down to keep from overheating and lots of thrust coming up to boost the mass past most of the gravity must make an astronomical fule bill."

He nods and Lana asks, "So, where do we dock? And can I come? May I come? Please, Please, Puhleeezzz?"

"Lana, check with the Covalex platform, I'm not sure if they have a docking ring that can accommodate us, but if they do, once I get back, I'll treat the both of you to a meal at Habbib's."

"Jix!" Lana gushes, "I want terraie and moulon and shrimp and maybe some chocolate cake or pie... oh, and of course a huge glass of fresh clisnas." I would swear she steals a glance my way, "Or maybe something stronger?"

"I don't suffer drunks very well."

"No problem, I'll just have one."

…..

We are seated in a booth in Habbib's: Lana, the Professor, and I. One of the waitresses sashays up, her long black hair moving behind her in ways that flatter her already mesmerizing figure. Her name is Violi and I already know she is a merciless flirt... but also a young woman who never lets things get past the flirting.

"Hello, Violi," I say before she can start.

"It is so nice to see you again, TOG," she purrs, putting extra accent on the word "you"... the kind of emphasis that would make anyone else think she was somehow serious.

"Oh, Darlin'," I drawl back, "If only ah could..."

Violi starts giggling and oddly, so does Lana. The Professor looks completely clueless, but that adds to the silliness of the occasion and the other three of us burst out laughing.

…..

We are halfway through our meals when I drop my surprise, "Well, partners, I hope you don't expect me to pay for the next one."

Both look at me with bewilderment.

"I registered the Minnow for a three way partnership: the both of you and myself."

Lana looks dazed while the Professor's jaw unhinges and nearly drops onto the table.

"I've also got her tanks topped off and an EVA going to paint off her old markings. I'm having her marked "Renewal" since we are all have kind of a new start with her, but if either of you have a better name, I'm willing to hear it."

"So," the Professor seems to be regaining some of his thought processes, "It isn't the Minnow anymore?"

"I think that joke has more than lived its time. Besides, do we really want someone that Claire made angry deciding to open fire first and ask questions later?"

"Good point."

"I'm..." Lana says, her voice hesitant, her tone pregnant with some deep emotion.

"We'll get the two of you a crewmate or two when we get to Terra..."

Now Lana interrupts, "Wait, you aren't coming with us?"

"I think I know two pretty creative folks who will manage just fine with me being a silent partner. If I didn't have that confidence, I would have just temp registered her and sold her as soon as I reasonably could. I already have ships and a tea plantation on Terra, not to mention the Imperial Contract winging for Kree'Gna. If you want to, you two get to make Renewal work, turn a profit, and when... or if... you want to move on, then we work out what happens with the ship then."

They both look at me like I'm either nuts or Santa Bear... or both.

…..

A lanky Xi'An enters the bar, shadowed rather obviously by two of the station's security team. I'm not completely sure about the rank glyphs, but I suspect this is the Dagg Nogg's commander. I rise and bow appropriately; Lana imitates me, but the Professor gets a puzzled smile that I wonder about... just before he asks clearly, "Are we expecting a slink to join us too?"

Xi'An are hard to read unless you know them well, maybe I'm not quite there in most situations, but this insult does get a momentary flicker of hostility and distrust before her face becomes inscrutable.

I know the offense must be dealt with and face him with anger obvious on my features and throughout my tone, "Professor! Do not dishonor me so!"

He looks up innocently enough, "What have I done?"

"It's what you said! Apologize! NOW!"

Fear runs away with him and he starts to tremble. "Please," he is begging now, "What have I said?! Help me?!"

Lana interjects, "Professor, 'slink' is an exceptionally offensive term for the Xi'An."

I look up at her as she speaks and then back down at him and recognize horror in his features.

"I didn't know!" He pleads, "It is the nicest word I've ever learned for the effn' greenies! Please forgive me!" I would swear that he is about to cry.

I look up at the stone faced Commander and begin, "Mish Eebek, Shē'sueren. Please forgive the Professor, he has been a slave all his life and only learned the words of the scum he was forced to serve. He meant no harm and he will quickly learn the proper way to speak with any of The Intelligent Hatched."

She nods, looking his way and likely recognizing his distress.

I gesture to my side of the booth and offer it to her, "I would be honored if you would take my place."

She nods in return, replying with a heavily accent, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I accept your honor, but today it is not for me to accommodate you. Please, keep your place."

"Thank you. Please know Svetlana Tolstoy," I indicate her, "and the Professor."

She nods to each, but does not pronounce their names as she says, "Greeting, humans."

Lana doesn't know Xi'An protocols and she simply says, "Hello," while extending her hand as if to do a fistbump. The Commander glances her way, but her attention moves on to the Professor. She is waiting for his greeting, but I would guess he is terrified of saying the wrong thing and may think she is just angry with him... he remains silent and she finally turns back to me.

I respectfully ask, "How may I assist you, Commander Mish Eebek?"

"We need soon to return to our..." she pauses, it seems obvious she is not quite fluent in our language, "... duties. I desire to know if your planet business is completed. Our orders are to return you to Terra."

"Yes, Mish Eebek, the matter is concluded, but we are exhausted and will require a sleep cycle or risk unsafe flight. I hope you will grant that our ship is neither light nor easily maneuverable when we are all very tired."

She seems to appreciate this fact and agrees, "That is wise, Shawn Ryan. Please notify us when your cycle is complete." With a slight bow, she concludes, "Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

I bow in return and reply, "Thank you. Mish Eebek, athlē-korr."

She turns and strides powerfully from the room and I return to my seat.

"We are going to have to update your vocabulary," I announce to the Professor while wondering what other unpleasant surprises his conversations might bring.

"Please forgive me, I thought 'slink' a gentle word next to 'effn greenie' or 'wauglash'."

"Yes, but it is simply a lesser among bad choices. 'Xi'An' or 'The Hatched' will do much better. I really expect any partner to behave reasonably around them, since I am an Imperial Contractor myself."

"You like them?"

"Some of them, just like I like some humans, Tevs, and Banu."

"Oh." His expression brightens and he asks, "So I am still a partner?"

"Yes," I reply as if it should be obvious.

"Jix!" He answers, then, looking over at Lana he asks, "Will you help me?"

She smiles and answers, "Of course," with a tone of voice that clearly means she will gladly do so.

…..

Renewal's bridge, a curious combination of much more space than I'm used to married to a much more utilitarian aesthetic, now brings me a familiar view after moments before showing only the turbulence and exhilaration of interspace: Terra. Immediately the welcome sight conveys a sense of coming home.

"Not much scrap here," Lana observes, seemingly more morose than the topic ought to engender. I've noticed that since Castra II, she hasn't been much of a chatty Cathy... a fact I half welcome and half wonder about. Maybe she just hadn't talked in so long that it was indeed as if the dam burst and now all that has gone... but honestly... I don't think so.

"Well, once I'm home, you two can pick a place that will have a lot of it and work out how to get there and harvest to your hearts' content."

Her face sours as she locks in the course for the Xi'An embassy.

A bored sounding voice comes over the comms, "Renewal, this is Ensign Rosa of the UEEN. Please drop shields for scan."

"Copy, Ensign Rosa," Lana replies and I see her comply.

A scant minute later the same voice simply says, "Renewal, you are free to go."

"Thank you," she replies and her hands fly over the console and glas before her. The big Reclaimer starts to move, albeit slowly at first.

"How come you flirted with that waitress?" Lana asks, seemingly out of the blue.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"The one in that station. Black hair, short."

"Violi? She flirts with everyone. Well, with the guys, anyway."

"Yeah, but you like her?"

"Well, she is cute."

"And I'm?"

I look at her. "Come again?"

"You haven't flirted with me."

"You are my partner."

"So?"

"Now why would a cute young thing like you want an old goat like me to flirt with you?"

"I'm not cute or you would have noticed me."

I shake my head, "I'm what, twice, maybe three times your age."

"Are not."

"Oh, and how do you figure that?"

She is suddenly serious, "I was already MUDdy in space before the turn of the century. I've only been awake for about four standards."

I've heard of really long term survival with MUD, but never actually met anyone who had been out in the drift more than a couple months; could it be true? Is she really older than me? The bands she likes comes back to mind... perhaps she doesn't like them in a retro sense, maybe she likes them because she was growing up back then?!

"When were you born?" I demand.

"When were YOU born?" she retorts.

"2881. Your turn."

"You're that old and you don't know that girls don't tell? Anyway, I'm older than you are; not a lot older, but older. So, why haven't you flirted with me?"

"Why is this important? I flirt with Violi because she flirts with me and we both know she isn't going to do anything about it. Most young women get offended when an old man tries to flirt with them, I figured it was likely you would too. Not to mention I'm your partner, why gum up the works?"

"Lame excuses, TOG. You don't think I'm attractive, do you?"

I look her over; she appears to be twenty-something, a little flat chested maybe, but with a pretty face, penetrating eyes, lovely lips, and what I seem to remember as a quite pleasing figure when she stands. "If it matters, you are attractive. There, I said it, are you happy?"

"No. Tell me what you like about me."

"Are you feeling insecure or something? Is it maybe that time..."

"Don't you dare say it!"

"What?"

"You were going to ask if it's PMS."

Well, I wasn't exactly, but she is pretty close. "Maybe."

"Why is it that when a woman expresses even the slightest hint of sexual inquisitiveness that you men automatically think we are having hormone issues?!"

"Um..."

"Don't answer that. Yes or No, would you like a tumble?"

"You mean..."

"Damn right, I mean that. Are you gay?"

"No."

"Then are you interested?"

"Well..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." With this pronouncement, she moves quickly and duplicates the first French kiss she gave me several days ago. Yes, I am a man and yes, her passion elicits a physical response. My hands go places that I would not have imagined them going just a half hour ago and hers do likewise.

Her face pulls back and she says, "I've programmed our cruise to take just over an hour to get there; let's go to my cabin, I have some plumbing that needs work."

…..

"You know, there are meds that can help with that," Lana says matter-of-factly. I look over and she seems to be concentrating on giving our lumbering beast the directions it needs. Lana and I are on the bridge as we approach one of the Xi'An Embassy's docking arms.

"You didn't seem to think I needed meds."

"Well, you didn't until..." her words die and she seems to be deliberately watching anything to avoid looking at me.

"Yeah, well, you can work on the Professor, I bet he..."

"He can't."

"Excuse me?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this..."

"Then don't."

"Oh. Well, he just can't; it's an equipment issue."

Well, at least that explains why the tigress turned her attentions onto me. Fortunately or not, we probably won't need to worry about having a family... at least not from this encounter. I should feel a bit humiliated, but maybe this is the best outcome. If anything, I feel a bit ashamed that I'm so easily manipulated; at least Xin took the time to seduce me, Lana just took my hand and led me where she wanted and did what she wanted. The experience was rather emasculating when I think about it; maybe that's why... well, at least with Xin I finished the job, even if it didn't take very long.

A red warning light starts flashing across the bottom of the main view port, drawing my complete attention. WARNING: DOCKING INITIATED! The protective shield quickly covers the viewport and we are left with just the glas and a couple projections.

"I'm giving the station control," Lana announces and then sits back. She finally looks my way and with a lusty smile says, "We can work on it some more when you are done here."

Part of me wants to do so, to take some time and do things my way... but there is something else in me that feels like this is a mistake and I should let her find a man-toy to take her passions and aggressions out on.

"We'll see," is all I can muster.

"You don't need to feel bad, I'm sure you'll do fine. Maybe it was performance anxiety, I mean you didn't have any problems until that stupid alarm went off. If we weren't going to dock, I bet you'd have finished well."

"Please drop it."

"Somebody got his pride hurt?" she asks like she was talking to a pouting five year old. "I can fix..."

My anger rises and I snap back at her, "Will you DROP IT ALREADY?!"

She sits back as if slapped and quietly replies, "Yes, Shawn. I'm sorry, I was just..."

The comms come to life and interrupt her, "Renewal, we have you. I show a good seal on the docking rings, please begin pressure equalizing."

"Thank you, Xi'An Control. Balancing the pressure now."

"Please remain in your vessel until Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna arrives in the docking arm. He will have the proper instructions."

"We copy, Xi'An control. Renewal out." She looks my way again but says nothing.

The Professor chooses this moment to bounce into the room, "Okay, so what should I call... them... again?"

"Xi'An or The Hatched," I answer, turning towards him. "You know, it might be good if you hold off until you are introduced. Kree'Gna is my friend and also the person I fly with, I want you to be comfortable that you will be able to make a good impression."

He smiles and nods, "That works for me, sir."

It strikes me that while the Professor knows things about this ship that even its designer's probably never imagined, he is emotionally battered and probably more like a child inside. I need to be careful and try to guide him more than order him. I try to offer some encouragement and say, "You will do fine, Professor."

…..

Kree'Gna bows as we leave the open hatch, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. It is good to see you alive, my friend."

I bow slightly more deeply and reply, "Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren. It is very good to also see you alive and well."

I introduce both and there are awkward moments as each tries to be polite and Kree'Gna tries to help them.

Finally, however, Kree'Gna looks directly my way and says, "We must talk in private, but not here."

"Okay..."

"You will need to recover one of your ships from planet-side. Let us meet at your plantation."

"Um... well, I'll need to get a shuttle down, then. I don't want to have to atmo a Reclaimer."

He nods, "I will order a taxi from Prime to take you down if your crew can handle orbiting."

Svetlana clears her throat and I look her way. "Excuse me, but we need to get more crew. May I come down once we are in orbit? The Professor shouldn't have any trouble maintaining position."

I look back at my friend and say, "I'll help get the Renewal into orbit and then order up a taxi. Can you give us a few hours?"

"Yes, but time is still of great import. Contact me once your taxi arrives and I will drop down to meet."

I bow and reply, "I will do so. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr," he replies, then turns and strides back through the docking arm.

I turn to my shipmates and announce, "New plan: we orbit the Renewal and then Lana and I taxi down to my place on Terra."

Both smile and we turn and head back into the ship.

…..

"So, you two evah been to Terra?" the space cabby asks in a distinctly Block accent.

I chuckle, "Yeah, you're taking us to my place."

"Ah ha!" he exclaims with what might have been a wink. Were I to guess, he figures he's got an old guy and a cute young thing headed planet-side and has improperly come to a lusty conclusion.

We are in an old RSI Hopper 450, the one with two seats in front and two behind, laid out much like a planetary hovercar or sedan. The pilot looks a bit worse for wear, but nothing really unseemly. He is spending at least as much time looking in the mirror back at Svetlana as he is watching where he's flying.

"Torre Nor," he begins, "I got an uncle who lives out near there. You know Eddie Samuelson?"

"Nope, never met him."

"He does books on the sporting side, if ya know what I mean."

"Well, I'm not much of a betting man, if you know what I mean."

"Ah..." I think I see his eyes glance at Lana and suspect that he has again come to an erroneous conclusion; he looks back my way and says with a chuckle, "Yeah, of course. Who does that anyway?"

We fly in silence for at least thirty seconds before he starts in again, "I got a cousin that works in the hospital."

"In one of the Torre Nor districts?"

He laughs, "No, no, in the Block. She sees all kinds of things and occasionally finds stuff that is mislabeled or needs to be disposed of... ya know?"

"Thanks anyway," I reply.

A moment later, Svetlana asks, "Oh, what do they do with whatever?"

The cabby eyes her for a moment and says, "Well, she likes to help those who are unable to get into the hospital to pick things up. You know, kindah like a community service sorta deal."

"I see, and what kinds of..."

I interrupt, "You have money?"

She looks embarrassed and quietly says, "No."

The cabby is watching the two of us, but doesn't miss a beat, "Hey, you should check out Pedro's."

Lana asks, "Where's that?"

"Prime, just outside the Runways. They got this old hydro dome, gotta great view of traffic at the port."

"That the one with the Madre del Diablo?" I ask.

"You been there?" he sounds surprised.

"Yeah, once or twice. I usually prefer something more like JonJohn's for steaks myself, but Pedro's is so close to the port, it's nice some times not to have to mono into town for good food."

"Yeah," he sighs, "Gotta love that hot stuff. JonJohn's is a bit too... er... family style for me, but Perdo's is more like momma's cookin'."

…..

The taxi lifts from my pad, leaving the both of us standing in relative silence for the first time in thirty minutes or so. My ears begin to adjust and I can hear the little hummingbird male trying to reclaim his territory from a nearby tree.

On the ground, Jurdi's 'Lancer is parked and cooled outside the hangar. The doors themselves are open, revealing not only my unflown replacement 315p, but a sleek new 350r as well. It looks like she still needs to have my ER tanks hung and maybe a few other things done, but I suspect she will be ready to fly when Kree'Gna needs me.

"I thought you said you weren't rich," Lana says. "How much of this is yours?"

"Well, the ships are mine, but I've only got about half share of the land, hangar, and tea plantation."

"Pretty rich to me."

Dean is striding our way and when she sees him, I hear Svetlana purr, "Hmmmmmm."

"Hey, Boss, welcome back!"

"Hello, Dean. How are you?"

"Great, Jurdi and the kids are here, somewhere."

I introduce, "Dean, this is a new partner of mine, Svetlana Tolstoy."

He executes a gentlemanly bow and says, "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Tolstoy."

I look Lana's way and offer, "Lana, this is Dean Olivian, he is watching over the property right now."

You would think Dean was a steak and Lana starved for meat the way she lustily breathes, "Dean."

If expression and body language mean anything, Dean's guard just went up. He steps slightly back and returns his attention to me. "Couple of developments, Mr. Ryan. I'm now holder of half the inherited share and Jurdi has the other half. We needed to move on it to cut off any lawsuit, I couldn't reach you, and we each had the resources."

"Are you allowed to own stuff when you're doing that monastery thing?"

"Well, that's part of the second development; you see, Jurdi and I are engaged. I'm no longer a postulate at the monastery."

I smile, "Congradula..."

An undetected comet of emotions slams into my chest as his words hit home. Fire and ice seem to vie for which one will overwhelm me first.

"Are you okay, sir?" Dean asks with apparent concern.

A part of me wants to fan the rivalrous flame of envy into a confronting conflagration... while another part of my heart calls for glacial walls of frigid isolation.

Dean looks troubled and I think guesses the war within, "You look tired, sir, let me give you some time to rest." He turns and strides towards the lift.

Lana decides that I'm not as interesting and runs after him. "Care to show me around?" I hear her ask just before they pass out of earshot.

My worst fears were well founded after all. I had hoped that Jurdi might... well... might grow to find an interest in me. I replay every conversation I've had in the last month or so with either of them and wonder that I must have missed several chances to frustrate their romance...

As my stomach sinks and breath comes far too shallow, I also start to recognize that I was only fooling myself to think I had even a slight chance with Jurdi. She's brilliant, funny, caring, and... well... I'm just a clod in a space suit... and an old clod, to boot.

There is an odd growl in the air, something otherworldly that seems to come from all around. A moving shadow to my right catches my eye and a glance tells me I need to look up; Kree'Gna's Xress is overhead settling planetward and already pretty close. I scamper quickly towards the hangar and the craft effortlessly alights upon the pad almost exactly where I was standing.

…..

"You are upset." Kree'Gna states.

The two of us are sitting on a bench away from the hangar. I've yet to hear what he wants so much privacy for, but suspect I won't have to wait too long to find out.

"Yes, I am. I just found out that Dean has asked Jurdi for her hand and she has said yes."

"I do not understand, Shawn Ryan."

"Dean and Jurdi are going to marry. Um, kinda like what I seem to remember the Hatched do when they pair for nesting."

"Grrsatch?" he plainly asks, though as he says it it almost sounds like a cat's purr.

I shrug, "I've never heard that word."

"Make a nest..." he is struggling for the right word, "Or maybe make a 'home'?"

"For us, it is more like the two committing to be together as a couple."

"Breeding?"

"That's part of it, but also companionship, friendship, mutual encouragement, and the easier burdens of shared struggles."

Kree'Gna nods and purrs again, "Grrsatch."

"Grrsatch?" I try, though I'm sure I don't purr.

"You are close enough."

"Thank you, Kree'Gna."

"This still does not explain why you are upset, Shawn Ryan."

"Well..."

My emotions must be evident in my expression, because he asks, "You wished the female for yourself?"

"Jurdi. Her name is Jurdi Abboud."

"Abboud." His tone reflects recognition, "Do we not already know... ah, yes, Habbib Abboud from the diner in the Castra II Covalex... is he related?"

I have to admit, "Well, I don't know. Maybe."

"So you wished to murry with Jurdi Abboud."

"Marry. And I'm not sure... I just... well, I don't really know what I want."

"Ah, so another male has taken the fe... please excuse me, has taken Jurdi Abboud?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up."

Kree'Gna looks thoughtful for a while; then in about the time it takes to blink, his countenance changes and he is all business. "We need to seat you in a new craft, Shawn Ryan."

"I've got that new 350R; won't take long for it to be ready."

He nods, "That is fast enough."

"May I ask a question, Kree'Gna?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you want us to meet in the Embassy?"

"Dnong is there, as are two other elder Seers... ones I do not know. Something is up, and I want you to be ready on your own before we meet the Diplomat."

"Well, I guess I better get right to fixing the new girl up."

"You are trying for another female?"

I laugh, then reply while pointing at the gleaming 350R, "The girl I will dance among the stars with."

"Yes, you have always loved to fly, haven't you?"

"Yup."

"Shawn?" That's Jurdi's voice and I turn to see her headed out onto the pad.

"Kree'Gna, please see my friend Jurdi Abboud."

"Jurdi Abboud, Shē'sueren," Kree'Gna offers in his best manner.

Jurdi looks startled as if the introduction was unexpected. "Oh, um..."

"Jurdi, this is my good friend and Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna. My contract with the Xi'An Empire is mostly to fly as his wing."

"Please forgive me," she replies after a quick bow, "But I am afraid I do not know the proper way to greet so honored a Xi'An visitor."

He nods, "I consider your words greeting enough. A good friend of my friend is also a friend if she so wishes."

"I would like that," she replies. Her attention turns to me a scant breath later, "Who is this woman you've brought down? Svelte something or other."

"Lana? The whole name is Svetlana Tolstoy, she is a new partner on a ship I acquired. Long story, that."

"Well, you need to reign her in a bit. She's making eyes at Bashir and I do not like it."

Sounds like she has given up on Dean, I was starting to think perhaps she had set off trouble with him.

Puzzled, I ask, "How old is Bashir?"

"Sixteen standard. Definitely not old enough for some twenty-something to be sizing him up for..." she blushes, "That."

"I'm sure it's just a mistake. She was a slave until very recently and may just be..." I stop. I'm making excuses and coming close to not telling the truth. What is wrong with me?

She eyes me suspiciously, "Yes?"

"I was about to make excuses that I know in my heart are wrong. I already know she's interested in just about any human male she's met; with Bashir growing into a fine young man, I can't doubt that she finds him desirable."

"Well, okay then. You need to talk to her. I won't have her manipulating my son into that lifestyle."

"I'll talk with her as soon as Kree'Gna and I are finished."

…..

Alone together again, Kree'Gna says in a lowered voice , "I have brought you a pair multi-particle/wave cannon repeaters. Can you mount them instead of your normal cannon?"

"What in particular?"

"Sakura Sun Stormfire."

"Hmmm... never mounted a Sakura before. I guess we can see." I wonder at this, he has never offered such before. "You worried that I'm out-gunned?"

"Perhaps."

"If I hadn't lost one whole thruster before I could even throttle up..."

He looks sharply my way and I see deep concern... and maybe a bit of reproach, "What exactly did happen to you when we got ambushed?"

"The gunship behind us blew out my port thruster before I could develop any thrust or adjust my shields. I was instantly at half power and in the middle of a swarm. I tried to cut off your pursuit, but just couldn't keep up. I danced for all I was worth, but couldn't hold them off. Finally took missile fire and wound up in space." Now I look back, a bit of accusation in my return question, "Why? What do you think happened?"

He smiles, "I was going too fast to see. Others have asked and I defended your actions, but I did not know the details. Perhaps even I am sometimes uncertain about humans... even you, Shawn Ryan."

"I would hope I have earned better from you, Kree'Gna."

"Yes." He puts a large hand on my shoulder, an uncommon signal of connection between our races, and answers, "Yes, you have, Shawn Ryan. Please forgive my doubts."

…..

"What?!" Jurdi looks perplexed and perhaps a little angry. She and her teenage son are standing face to face. Kree'Gna and I are not far away by my 350R's starboard class one mount point.

Bashir Abboud looks confidently back, "I'm going to work on the Renewal with Lana and the Professor."

"What do you mean?"

"Lana told me I was perfect to a bunch of jobs."

Now it is patently clear that Jurdi is angry, "You will do no such thing!"

"Why? She wants to teach me everything."

"I'll bet," Jurdi snorts back. "Well, you are not going, young man."

"What?! Why not?" Bashir whines. "You always tell me I need to take some responsibility. Well, I agree, it's time I grew up and learned about making my way in the galaxy. Besides, I want to do this."

"And I'm supposed to believe that that woman is simply going to teach you about working on a ship and nothing else... and that you are happy with that?"

Bashir blushes.

Now Jurdi has some kind of confirmation and continues, "I thought so."

"But she likes me!"

"I'll bet she does. You weren't raised that way, and as long as you are too young for the Navy, you are too young for that crib robber."

"You can't stop me!" he screams.

I'm not sure where he came from, but Dean is beside us and quietly asks, "What's going on?"

"Trouble. Be ready to pick up the pieces after I get the hate."

"Come again?"

"Lana has invited Bashir to ship out on the Renewal, and I would guess that she has offered to teach Bashir things Jurdi thinks he is too young to learn."

"She is a good mother," Dean says, while nodding.

"Yup, and that's why you need to come in to support the both of them after I take the fall."

"Still don't follow."

"You will."

Dean nods and watches while I walk over to where mother and son are angrily going back and forth.

"May I interrupt?" I ask.

Jurdi looks up and opens her mouth, but Bashir glares my way and speaks first, "No! Go away! This is a family matter."

"Maybe you should know that I own a share of the Renewal and have veto over any decision about destinations or crew."

Jurdi's head tilts ever so slightly and nods just a fraction of a centimeter.

"Well, Lana says she gets to pick the crew," he retorts sharply. "She says you aren't coming! So THERE!"

"You have just earned the right to stay when Renewal leaves."

"WHAT?!" Yup, sure looks like a passionate hatred flowing out of Bashir's eyes.

"I say you aren't going. End of story."

Lana would pick this moment to saunter in, dressed in a nearly painted-on outfit that I'm sure was intended to further encourage Bashir's interests... after all, what teenage boy doesn't want some twenty-something hottie saying she wants him?

"Lana!" He calls plaintively and her expression clouds with at least a little confusion.

"What's the matter, Bashir?" she asks, but he doesn't get a word in before...

Jurdi explodes at her, "Who in the hell do you think you are trying to corrupt my son?"

"Excuse me?"

"You are wanting the sexual services of my teenage son and I will be hung if I let you take him," Jurdi asserts.

Svetlana glows with a rather seductive smile, one she shines on Bashir. "I only want to help him learn things a young man needs to learn. Work. Space. Being a... man."

"He isn't going." I state this slowly but with no question in my tone.

"Jealous?" Lana coyly asks.

"No. Ordering."

Her smile fades and a calculating look replaces it, "I thought I was a partner."

"You are."

"I say he can come."

"When you own the ship outright, feel free to take underage lovers aboard."

I don't see the punch coming, but Bashir hits me hard in the stomach... though not solidly enough. In spite of the pain, reflexes take over; I shove him violently with my left hand and am drawing my slug-thrower with my right.

"Stop!" Dean commands just as I feel his massive paws clamp down on my weapon arm. "He's a kid, Shawn," he adds in a voice of wisdom.

Bashir is on the deck, Lana and Jurdi are both standing stunned, and Dean only eases his grip as I release my pistol back into its holster.

"Yeah. You're right." Looking down, I ask, "You okay, Bashir?"

He says nothing, but glares daggers at me nevertheless.

I look at Lana, "Ms. Tolstoy, pick an adult for your passions. Jurdi says 'no' and thats enough for me to veto having Bashir on the crew."

Svetlana smiles, but I don't see any friendliness in the expression. "As you command, Mr. Ryan." Something in her manner leaves me wondering if Claire only thought of her as a clean-cut Mary Anne because she didn't have anyone better to compare to. I also have to question if the Professor will be nearly as safe with Lana as I had presumed.

Dean picks this moment to speak up, "Bashir. You are adult enough to apologize to Mr. Ryan. Do so, now."

The lad looks hurt at this instruction, but unexpectedly obeys; rising first to his feet, he declares, "I am sorry I struck you, Mr. Ryan."

He doesn't really look or sound sorry, but I choose to ignore the fact, "Apology accepted, Mr. Abboud."

His brows furrow and I have to wonder if my choice of address will in any way change his attitude... I sincerely doubt it, but I've at least tried.

…..

I'm adjusting the right ER tank feed line on my 350R when Svetlana clears her throat behind me. I look back and see a smug look that seems completely out of place, at least considering our recent encounter over Bashir.

"Are you willing to sell your share?"

"What?"

"Are you willing to sell your share of the Renewal?"

"Your good looks aren't worth that much, Lana."

"Real Imperials."

"And you would be getting those where again?"

"The Professor and I have gotten a loan offer to buy out your share." She holds out her glas and the number is indeed a fair one for a ship I had never meant to own.

"The Professor is in on this too?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Is this all so you can kidnap Bashir?"

"Kidnap?" she snorts. "The Professor and I have voted to take him along if he still wants to go. Two to one, veto overridden." Now the smug look makes more sense. She continues, "Also, the Professor agrees with me that you having veto over where we go makes no sense if you are not coming along. If you keep your share, you'll just have to trust us."

I feel a chill and recognize, somewhat belatedly, that this woman isn't someone I would normally trust with a hundred credits, let alone my name or valuable property. I should have just kept Renewal in my name... oh well, water and bridges.

"I'll sell, but on one condition."

"And that is?"

"No Bashir."

"You won't have a say at that point."

"Actually, if I'm getting what you offered for my share, I can give you a discount in trade for not taking him, terms to that effect to be added to the contract."

"How much discount?"

"Five percent."

She seems to be doing mental math. Finally, she responds, "Fifteen."

"Ten."

She bares her teeth in a smile that looks almost predatory, "Done."

"I'll get my attorney to draw up the papers and you two will own a ship once the credits are in."

Her smile becomes almost ghoulish and I'm glad to know I'll soon be rid of her. She must be thinking along the same lines as she tosses a verbal jab, "You really are no more of a businessman than a lover, are you?"

The icy hostility in her tone is almost painful to hear, but the wound she meant to inflict misses by a wide margin.

"The things I love are the better for it, Ms. Tolstoy."

"Yeah, right," she pronounces as she turns on her heel and stalks away.

"That was inventive," Kree'Gna's voice from behind startles me.

I turn, dropping the spanner loudly onto the hangar floor. "What, you heard that?"

"I was adjusting your weapon mount, not sleeping," he responds rather wryly. "If you are free of the ship before Dnong interviews you, you will likely have thrown an unexpected problem into his imaginings."

"Dnong doesn't like me, does he?"

Kree'Gna laughs, "No, Dnong does not like humans at all, but you are a special case to him; from what I have observed, he seems to like to think humans are all the same... you just don't fit his expectations."

"Why is that?"

"You are honorable."

Frowning, I reply, "There are other humans who are."

"Yes, but I doubt Dnong meets many of them; perhaps in his position it is easier to embrace one's own prejudices than accept that stereotypes ignore the exceptions."

"You think I'm an exception?"

"Yes, Shawn Ryan. You are an exception to many of our ideas of what humans are like. In my experience, there are not so many like you, especially serving in your government."

"Well, I don't serve my government."

"Don't you?" he asks with what might be surprise.

Thinking about it, I wonder if what the Imperator has asked me to do actually makes my statement untrue. "I guess... well, hadn't thought of that; perhaps there is room for me to be considered a government servant of sorts."

He nods, "Just as you are a servant of Emperor Kray."

"Through the contract?"

"Of course."

"I still think that is a bit odd."

"Why?"

"I've no real idea who the Emperor is, yet somehow I'm an Imperial servant."

Kree'Gna's expression deepens and I lose any sense of what he is thinking. "Do you want to know?" he finally asks.

"Well, it might be a good idea. I seem to be caught between our peoples."

"Yes. I will see what I am allowed to share once we are back at the Embassy."

"I thought you were concerned about me going to the Embassy."

"I am, but we can not avoid it. You will have to face Dnong and the other Seers, but perhaps I can use that time to answer some questions for you."

"How will you know what I want to ask?"

"I won't until you ask."

Well, that's logical. I smile, "Guess I'll have to think about it."

"Yes, let us finish with your ship. We need to return very soon."

As Kree'Gna purposely heads to the other side of the ship and I hop down to collect my tool, I have to wonder... what do I really want to know about any of this?


	25. Chapter 24 – My Left Foot

POP!

That doesn't sound good... or feel good either, though in an odd sort of way. Something in my artificial left leg just seemed to break. Maybe hopping down off the wing onto the hangar floor isn't the best idea, but I would think that carbon fiber whatever should easily withstand that much pressure or it will be worthless quickly. I try to take a step and realize that something in the ankle isn't working; my regenerating nerves tell me I've broken the joint, but the pain is barely half of what that should be. On the other hand, walking this way seems questionable and if my foot doesn't work, I'm useless on the left rudder pedal in flight.

"Shawn Ryan?" it's Kree'Gna coming back around the ship, "What was that?"

"This artificial ankle seems to have gone out on me. They had a jury-rigged medibay on the Renewal that the Professor used to rebuild my left leg. Maybe it wasn't quite up to par."

"I did not know you had lost your left leg, Shawn Ryan."

"Please forgive me, Kree'Gna. It was working well enough and I rather forgot to mention it."

He nods, but seems worried suddenly.

"What is wrong?" I ask quietly.

"You must get it checked out before I can fly with you. Replace any substandard components and insure it does not introduce any contagion to the Embassy."

That's the first time I've heard him speak like this. "What's wrong, Kree'Gna?"

"You must do as I say, Shawn Ryan. You must not have a weakness like this."

"I'm not crippled," I say as I hobble a few steps his way. The look in his eyes must match my own reality check, "Okay, I'm wrong. I'll call over to the hospital and see if someone can take a quick look at it. Maybe it just needs an adjustment."

…..

"We just can't seem to get rid of you, can we?" as voice asks from behind me. I'm sitting in the emergency room of the district hospital and as I turn to see who has spoken, none other that Dr. Harrington is approaching me.

"You get stuck with me again or just passing..." my words die as I see his nod and rather bemused expression.

"Our executives figure that since I didn't die the first time around, there's no sense putting anyone else through the drama or trauma of treating you." The is something about his tone that leaves me wondering, though.

"Well, shouldn't be much of either," I say, before noting that two rather burly lads have appeared with an odd looking wheelchair. I look back at him and ask, "What's up, Doc?"

"Please get into the chair without questions," he says quietly. "I can't answer you here."

The wheelchair is more like a half-body cocoon, heavy doors will cover my legs and up to my waist.

I let my voice drop, but ask anyway, "Am I contagious or something?"

"You are not contagious," He answers clearly enough for others in the room to hear, leaving me wondering if he is being honest or if he's just trying to head off panic. "No more questions, Mr. Ryan. We need to do a more careful examination."

He words don't match up with the situation, but then it occurs to me that maybe whatever power-source the leg uses is leaking... that would account for the doors over the legs, it may be radiation shielding.

I move as quickly as I can, assisted by the two big men, and the clamshells close quietly over half of me.

…..

We move quickly down the hallways, three sets of footsteps and the strange heavy sound of the wheelchair. There are fewer people in this wing. An elevator door opens and I note that one of the two large dudes stays at the doorway, as if guarding it.

Down we go. Down. Down... must be a ways.

"What's the story Doctor?" I broach.

He holds out his mobi and shows me what must be a scan of some sort. Whatever it is, I'm not at all sure I see the problem. "Yes?" I ask.

He looks my way and explains, "You have a substantial explosive device in your left foot."

"Excuse me?"

"Scans of your left foot show a quarter kilo of an RNL type explosive with rather sophisticated wiring in place. I'm not even sure how we are to deal with it."

"Well," I start, trying not to let the fact that I've got a bomb attached to my leg unhinge me, "Let's get it out, okay?"

"I'll include you in whatever decisions I can." The elevator door whisks open to reveal a spartan chamber with what looks like surgery and recovery equipment. As we start into the concrete walled room, Dr. Harrington continues, "I need some answers, Mr. Ryan."

"Shoot."

"Where did you get this leg?"

"In a pieced together medibay on a Reclaimer."

"Why?"

"Got a ship shot out from under me and the crew recovered me from the MUD."

"Mud?" He asks, but before I can answer he continues he smiles and states, "I remember now: MUD, common term for DSML. You told me some about that last time."

"Yeah, probably."

"But why would you want a bomb in your foot?"

"Beats me."

"They put it there without telling you?"

"Well, I may like to have ordinance around at times, but attached where I can't take it off and use it?" I ask with at least a wee bit of sarcasm. "Of course I didn't know about it."

"I've read about slaves sometimes having explosives in their bodies, but..."

"Hmmm..."

"What?"

"Well, the folks that pulled me out of the void were not nice people. Their captain was an egomaiac and both her crew-members were slaves."

"So she may have put this in your leg for control?"

Remembering Lana's collar I think I understand, "Actually, I bet the Professor did."

"You'll forgive me if I don't follow. Just explain."

"The tech expert was the one who patched together the medibay and autodoc. He seemed inclined to do whatever the captain told him without question."

"So now you're an escaped slave?" he asks incredulously.

"Nope."

"Good, because whomever could probably detonate this if they were within range."

"Be kinda hard for her to do that; she's two jumps away floating in the void without any EVA gear."

"Come again?"

"She tried to kill me and I had to space her."

"Space?" He asks, then almost immediately his expression changes and he breathes, "Oooohhhh..."

The clamshell leg covers open and I'm about to try to stand when it occurs to me that Lana might know about this and the Professor certainly does. "What exactly would happen if it went off?"

"Without knowing much about the shape of the charge, what I've just read about RNL leads me to believe that the three of us here would meet Old Pete pretty quickly."

"Old Pete? That like hell?"

"No," he laughs, "quite the opposite, legend has it that Peter stands at the gates to Heaven to determine who gets in."

"So it would kill the three of us."

"Pretty much wipe this chamber clean of organic life, maybe even crack the walls."

"So if the folks who have the ship now don't like me and they are in orbit?"

He looks concerned again, "What was your blood type again?"

"Can we stop with the twenty questions and get it out?"

"That is what I'm trying to do. I have no desire to die either."

"So what's with the blood type? That's an artificial foot."

Exasperated himself, Doc Harrington replies, "Our chief surgeon said that unless we could mitigate the threat, the best and quickest way to remove the bomb is remove the artificial limb."

"But I thought it was grafted on..."

"Yes," he interrupts acidly, "So we'll likely have to amputate above the joint."

I shake my head in disbelief. "Drama and trauma, huh?"

He eyes me with what might be sympathy, "Yup."

"No other options?" I wonder out loud as the Doc starts a bank of equipment and what looks like modern autodoc.

"Ryan," he says rather shortly, "We don't know. I need to scan that thing without setting it off."

"Hey, I can walk," I grouse as Harrington and his attendant physically lift me out of the wheel chair onto a large bed-like platform.

"Not if it might set that thing off," the Doctor snaps back. "Just cooperate or I'll sedate you. Got that?"

I have about a million smart acre responses run through my mind but what comes out of my mouth is, "Sure, Doc. Just take care of it."

"Look," he says, making solid eye contact, "This is my first bomb, okay? We're both scared as hells about it, so just work with us."

He's right. "Okay. You let me know what I can do, if anything."

He grins grimly, "You got it."

An arm from the autodoc swings out over my left leg and starts a whirring sound that reminds me of an angry hummingbird. Slowly, it tracks the length of the leg to my foot; as it does, a large glas on one wall displays what must me my leg's internals. The transition from natural to the prosthetic isn't as quick as I imagined, there are reinforcing fibers that run all the way up to the bone surface just below the knee joint, but parts of my own skin reach almost to where a normal calf would be.

"There it is," Doctor Harrington states. Pointing, he continues, "See how the mass of explosive is woven through the carbon fiber foot structure and around the sensor and actuator wiring? I can't even guess which connections will trip it."

"Where's the detonator?" I ask as he zooms in on the foot and pans around looking at the sometimes hair-thin wires."

"What our resource says is that RNL detonates directly off of an electrical circuit."

"Joy. So what about the receiver?"

"That tells it to detonate? No clue; there's so much makeshift tech in here that I could take all month determining which it is, not to mention actually knowing how to disarm it."

"Think it has a failsafe?"

"Ryan," he is sounding exasperated again, "Enough with your twenty questions, I need to think."

"Well, I just thought we could cut it off and let the Marines play with it."

He looks hard at me, then his expression softens, "You think that will solve it?"

"Well, it would make sense that it wouldn't be set to explode if it thinks the person died, at least not the way Fat Claire treated us. Otherwise it could easily kill the slave's 'master' before she got clear."

"Makes sense, but there might be sensors for things like sudden complete loss of blood pressure."

"Accidents happen."

"You gonna cut if off on your own?"

"Doesn't the autodoc have an amputation program?"

He looks at the machine, "Yes, but hospital rules are no automated surgeries without proper anesthetic management and surgical supervision."

"And if my ex-partner wants to get a ship without having to pay for it?"

"You have a point."

"Let's get this over with, I hate long goodbyes."

"Expecting it not to work?"

"No, but I didn't really expect to have an explosive in my foot either."

"Stop being snide or I'll strap you down and let it go to work without anesthesia at all."

"Yeah, right."

"Doc," the guard comments as Harrington looks up, "You want me to punch him a few times to knock him out? He sure deserves it."

"Who asked you?" I snipe back.

The Doctor smiles and looks down at me, "See, you are being an ass. Now shut up and let me work this out."

…..

"Okay," Harrington says quietly after an endless half-hour where I've laid here in the cold rather unattended. He continues, "I've gotten advice from a surgeon from Terra General who sees these all the time; we need to put you in stasis so any failsafe doesn't engage as the laser cuts through. He advised DSML and I've got a dose coming down right now."

"MUD, huh?"

"Yes, MUD."

"I need to let Kree'Gna know I'm back out of commission for a while."

"Do what you need."

…..

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren," I say as the Xi'An's serious face fills my mobi's projection.

I see his expression change to a warm smile, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Are you ready to rejoin me?"

"We have a problem. You know that foot I was having trouble with?"

"Yes?"

"It has a bomb in it. They are about to drop me back into stasis and amputate the leg above the knee."

"That is most unfortunate," he replies with far less than enthusiasm.

"I'm afraid that Dnong and company will have to wait until I'm back out from under the MUD and the new leg is on."

"I suspect they will be most irritated, Shawn Ryan."

"Yeah," I respond with a hint of snideness, "Well, what would they think if I showed up with a bomb in my leg?"

"You would likely be immediately spaced."

"My point exactly."

"I will pass this news on to Diplomat Athas Mgren," he says thoughtfully. "Is there an option to retain the leg as evidence for the Seers to check?"

"I'll ask, but bet they don't like to keep bombs lying around in a hospital."

"I will instruct a lesser courier to pick it up," he says in a matter of fact tone.

"You going to be alright?" I ask.

He nods but doesn't look very happy as he responds, "I will retain another pilot for now, but I desire your return."

"I do too, my friend."

Finally, his smile returns, "Good. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"See you when I get out. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

…..

"Ready?" Doctor Harrington asks, an evil looking syringe held somewhat aloft.

"Did you have to show me that?" I ask as my stomach chooses now to do the butterflies thing.

"Have a good nap, Ryan. See you on the other side."

…..

One nice thing about MUD stasis is that when you are under you don't dream. One bad thing about MUD stasis is that as your system gets cleaned out and your body begins functioning again you can't tell when you aren't dreaming.

Take now, for example: I would swear that I'm looking at a couple of Xi'An, though they aren't speaking and I'm not seeing clearly enough to identify either. My mind tells me I should be seeing Doc Harrington and maybe a burly attendant, but I can't quite reconcile that with what my vision is offering. Dream? Reality? No clue here. I close my eyes and try to will my ears to hear anything, but they are still out of commission.

Maybe I should go back to sleep. Weariness does come, bringing a restful settling sensation as my thoughts float away...

…..

I'm making a habit of recovering while others continue to live their lives. I seem to be thinking clearly and my vision is back to tack sharp.

From where I lay, I can see three humans in the room, but I don't recognize any of them. Well... is that true? There is a tallish, powerfully built, middle-aged man. Next to him is a shorter pleasantly attractive woman with just a hint of gray playing through her dark hair. Finally, there is a wisp of a woman barely shoulder height to the second, with short cropped black hair and almond shaped eyes... and she is drop dead gorgeous. Hmmm, maybe I'm dreaming again, the latter has almost a child's face with small lips and the smoothest pale skin... even Lanai wasn't such a heart-breaker.

I close my eyes to let the vision settle in my mind, guessing that it will all disappear when next my lids part...

But I'm not asleep.

"Mister Ryan?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

"Yeah, last I checked." I open my eyes again and the three haven't vanished.

"Thank you. I am Ryoko Hirosu from the Imperator's office. When you are ready, we need to get a statement." It is the short young woman who speaks.

"You know, I'm not sure that I'm not hallucinating right now."

She looks at the other two.

The big man speaks, "Mister Ryan, do you remember me? Dean Olivian?"

Dean... seems familiar... "And I know you from...?"

"Managing your tea plantation?"

Another man walks confidently into the room, a simple white cloth coat over otherwise nondescript clothing. "Okay, what is the meaning of this?" he demands.

"I was just trying to figure that out," I reply.

"Sorry, Shawn, I was talking to these three."

"I am Ryoko Hirosu from the Imperator's office. I was told that you were expecting me."

"Not until my patient is out of recovery."

"Maybe I wasn't clear, I am a representative of Imperator Costigan. We are trying to prevent an incident from becoming the spark that starts a war. I need to get answers from Mr. Ryan."

"And I'm his doctor. Nothing he tells you right now would be valid, his brain functions are still below sixty percent."

"Doc?" I interject.

"What do you need, Ryan?"

"She's cute," I say guilelessly. "I would really like her to talk to me."

"You know you said that out loud, right?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

He shakes his head a bit and smiles. I look back towards the three and see that Ryoko Whats-her-name is blushing and Dean and the woman... Jurdi... yeah, that's her name... I know her, too... anyway, Dean and Jurdi are smiling but looking almost embarrassed.

"You point is well taken, Doctor," the dark haired beauty comments. "I will check back in the morning. Please call if there are any issues."

She holds out her mobi and pokes at the holograph. Doc Harrington's does an odd chime and he nods.

The three leave the room and the doctor moves to examine something by my legs. "Can you feel this?" he asks, just before I feel something jab into my left foot.

"OWWww!"

"You big baby," he chuckles.

"What are you doing?! That HURT!"

"Good."

"Good?! Give me something for the pain if you are going to stab me."

"You still aren't quite back, Ryan. I'll explain when you are."

"Well at least don't chop my foot in half."

He laughs; it starts small, but soon it becomes a real belly laugh. I almost expect him to fall on the floor, he is laughing so hard.

"And just what is your problem?" I try to ask, but he is oblivious. "Hey Doc?"

Finally, his mirth lessens and he answers, "Yes, Mr. Ryan?"

"Were there two Xi'An in here in the..." my voice dies as the humor leaves him and a pall descends over his face.

"Yes. They were here early this morning."

Something worms its way into my recovering mind, winding its way through the corridors that lead to recognition.

"What's wrong?"

"They are dead."

My room has vanished and all I can see is Doc Harrington's face. "Dead? Who?"

His eyes are steady, "Don't know one of them, but the other was the one who caused the trouble the last time you were in. Dong or..."

"Dnong?"

"Yes, that sounds right. Dour sounding, kinda dino-faced, teeth instead of beak, single oval glyph, three fingers instead of four?"

I can visualize his face without effort, "Yes, that's Dnong. What happened?"

"Don't know. They took your leg and..."

"My what?"

"Your left leg?" His tone implies he is humoring me as he asks, "The one we just cut back off?"

That can't... be... didn't the Doc just stab me in my... hmmm.

It dawns on me that I should feel something odd... but don't. There is a table-like thing blocking my view of where my leg should be... I wiggle my toes and it sure seems like they are moving but I can't see them.

"But..."

"Your prosthetic is much better than your previous slapped together thing; I could tell it wasn't a surgeon who did that work. Anyway, even though the surgical laser cauterized the wound, we had no trouble salting stem cells next to the first set of undamaged neuron axon terminals. Because they lay at the interface between the cybernetic 'nerve' dendrites and your own cells, we established a perfect mesh as we cleansed the healthy local cells of DSML. Next..."

I interrupt, "Care to explain that in English?"

He chuckles, "Okay. How about: with some careful use of medical science, your body doesn't know that the leg isn't original equipment."

"Oh." Through the mental fuzziness one thought suddenly appears: This is a good thing! "Jix!" I exclaim.

Doc smiles and replies, "Glad you like it."

"But what about Dnong?" I query, getting back to the subject.

"The two of them left with your leg in a cryo tube. It should have remained stable barring outside activity. I only found out a few hours ago that they were dead when Ms. Amesly contacted me for whatever details I could give. Ms. Hirosu was sent when I couldn't let Amesly speak directly with you."

"Hirosu?"

"The one you thought was cute enough to say so out loud?"

"When did I do..."

His eyebrows arch and his smile has that patient look about it.

The memory seems to clear from the haze, "Oh. I did didn't I?"

"Yes, sounded like my thirteen year old: thoroughly smitten."

I shake my head and wonder just how embarrassed I should be when... or if... I see her again. What a moron I must have sounded like.

(sigh)

"It's okay, Ryan, I had only a few moments before told her you were not at full mental horsepower."

"Like that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well, if I may; better to sound like a star-struck kid than a lecherous old guy. I think she'll understand."

…..

In the darkness, a familiar voice digs me from sleep, hauling me into consciousness: "You seem to lead a charmed life, TOG."

"Hello, Gloria. Long time, no annoy."

"Relax, hotshot, I'm here to help."

"Kinda hard to imagine how."

"Wasn't that little wench supposed to pay you before she took your Reclaimer somewhere?"

"Rather inappropriate way to refer to a woman, isn't it?"

"As a woman, I have no problem calling her what she is. Actually, in different company, I would have called her worse. Care to hear what?"

"Nah, let's just pass on that, okay?" I can't see much more than her silhouette in the faint light of the hospital room's equipment. "So, what brings you here? I haven't been anywhere exciting lately, so you can go chase someone else."

"I have something for you... or more accurately, for you to give to Ms. Hirosu in the morning."

"Joy. No doubt something for me to further embarrass myself in the eyes of a lovely young woman?"

"Quite the contrary. But first, let me make two points: one, she is thirty-four. That makes her older than Xin. However, two, she is married with one child. I know you don't chase married women, even ones you care about, so that should help you keep those ancient hormones in check."

"Ancient hormones?" I snap back.

"Yes, now shut up and listen, I'm not supposed to be here and I need to be somewhere else very soon. There is a chip in your glas that has tracking logs on the Renewal, plus a transmission log that matches the time the two Seers were murdered that proves you were right: she tried to kill you just before she jumped." She pauses, maybe to see if I'm still breathing. "I do not believe they intend to tempt fate and stop while in Killian, but she will no doubt apply in Ellis for partnership control, claiming your death as a reason for terminating your rights. But there won't be any records of your death, and if the Imperator's Office moves quickly, your Reclaimer will be captured either by the Navy in Killian or in Ellis by the Advocacy."

"Good, she deserves it."

"Oh, one other thing."

"Yes?"

"I have a toy for you, a mobiglove."

Those aren't cheap. "Why?"

"You ever hear that ancient saw about gift horses?"

"Guess not."

"Let's just say you don't ask why when you get something worth a lot of Imperials."

"Unless it is loaded with a bunch of stuff that will get me arrested the next time I cross into Xi'An space."

"This one is stock, but it is the five chip model and you are starting with four chips already loaded."

"And they are?"

"The three your old mobi had plus the one we think will clear you with the Xi'An. It includes all of the transmissions from the time you were ambushed in the M50 up until Doctor Harrington put you under to remove the explosives, plus the applicable logs and transmissions I mentioned from the Renewal up to about an hour ago."

"And where is my old mobi?"

"In a slag heap, melting down to base elements."

"Great, now I have to reregister everything. Thanks a..."

"Stop!" she snaps. "I don't have time for this. The glove already has your bio and registration ghosted onto it. It IS your mobi now, you're off Spectrum if you DON'T take it."

"No choice."

"No. Put it on."

"Giving orders again?"

Her frustration is evident in her tone, but she says, "Shawn, will you please put the glove on?"

"Well, since you asked nicely." I can see her figure step forward from the deeper darkness and feel the device placed in my hand. She fades back into the shadows as I move fairly quickly to put it on. "It feels pretty good."

"It should. I have to go, your night nurse will be in on rounds in four minutes."

"Don't want to stay and chat?"

The room is silent.

"Gloria?"

There is a hint of air moving on my face, but only the equipment makes sounds.

I reach for the light control and as the space brightens, the room proves it is empty. Were it not for the very expensive device now gracing my right hand, I could easily imagine it was all just a dream.

…..

I wake early, dawn just beginning to play with the room's sole window and the emerald uplands beyond. The glove is still there, a reminder of my night visitor. Gloria is an enigma, sometimes she has been such a pain and then there are the times when she has helped. I turn my hand over and look at the hardened shell that protects my new mobi and by default, some of my own hand underneath. The Tonkor logo, though somewhat muted, is set along the edge so it can be read by someone in front of me while I use it; slick marketing, that. Beneath the logo is the word "Informer" so I guess that's the model. I rap on the shell with my left hand and there is no give whatsoever; must be metal of some sort, an exotic alloy if Tonkor's reputation were to suggest anything.

I hear voices in the hallway and Dean and Jurdi step into the room.

"Good morning," I offer.

They both return my greeting, then Dean asks, "How are you this morning?"

"Could be better, but I suspect I'm about where I'm supposed to be."

"Just saw the doc, he says your blood work looks good and you may be able to head back home this afternoon."

"Well, I need to get to the Xi'An Embassy as soon as possible."

"Got a question," Dean seems cautious before continuing, "What were they talking about yesterday? We got grilled pretty good about your new partners, both before and after we were in, but no one will tell me what 'the incident' means and there's been nothing on the Spectrum."

"Oh, well, you know how the grid is, everything that is really important gets out eventually."

Jurdi's eyebrows rise, "You haven't answered our question."

"Our?"

"We both want to know."

"And if I can't tell you?"

"Can't or won't?" Dean asks, just a bit of edge in his voice.

"Pick one."

"That's not an answer."

"You already know what I do. Right now, I need to talk with people who will tell me if I can talk about it."

Dean shakes his head in apparent disgust, but Jurdi seems to be evaluating. She reaches up for Dean's arm and affectionately says, "It's okay, he'll tell us when he can."

Her gesture brings a little tightening in my stomach, but I try not to show it.

Deans expression changes, "When did you get a glove?"

"This thing?" I ask, raising my right hand off the sheet. "It was a gift."

"Pretty spendy gift, partner."

"It has its uses."

"I'll bet."

"Look, I can't talk with you about this. Is there something else I can help with?"

Jurdi smiles, "When you get back to the hangar, we want you to look over the house plans we've had drawn up. We want to get moving on it before the seasons change."

"I'll be glad to. Hey, how are the kids?"

She smiles warmly and Dean seems to relax as well.

"They are doing fairly well. Bashir has discovered that he enjoys the country, even learning how to work with the tea plants."

"Jix!"

Dean smiles and picks up, "Yeah, he has a talent for it." A wee bit of edge returns though as he adds, "You have really turned him so far against you that it will take a while to mend that fence."

"Well, if anyone can work it out, it'll be you," I respond, nodding.

He smiles, perhaps grimly, but says nothing.

…..

Ryoko Hirosu stands near the foot of my bed, looking me over. "Are you feeling better today, Mr. Ryan?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Sorry about..."

She cuts me off with a wave of her hand, "Please, I understand. I need to ask you some questions about the incident."

"I only know what Doc Harrington told me, but I have gotten..." her expression intensifies, "Information about Ms. Tolstoy and my Reclaimer that you might be interested in."

"From the woman who stopped in last night?"

I nod.

"Do you trust her?"

"Only as far as I can throw her... which isn't very far. She's the one that got me into this mess in the first place."

"OES or..." she scans through something on her glas and then finishes with, "MARC?"

"You don't already know?"

She frowns for a moment, demonstrating a hint of pout that could melt titanial plate. If I didn't know that she is married, I would be in a lot of trouble about now. "Ms. Amesly has told me that there are facets of your case I am not supposed to ask about."

"Ms. Amesly is a pretty smart woman."

"So, what can you share with me?" She says the word "can" with all the appeal that a lover might use asking for a kiss.

"I have a chip that is supposed to contain information that will identify the person who activated the device in my old foot."

Her head tilts fetchingly to one side and she demurely asks, "May I have it?"

I think about the days ahead and decide to keep control of the situation myself. "I'll need it for the Xi'An when I get to the Embassy, but I can copy the data to you."

"Please do," she says with a flash of brilliant white teeth to punctuate it.

Be still my aching heart.

…..

A kind nurse clears away the lunch plates and whisks efficiently out of the room. I look out the window and wait. Soon, I should hear that I'm good to go home, maybe that I'm cleared to pilot. Boredom oppresses me.

I'm still hooked to one of the MUD cleaners; at least hospital cleaners don't go in through the neck, this one runs to a couple of needles lodged in my thigh. I'll sure be glad to be rid of them.

Familiar voices in the hall, Doc Harrington arguing with someone else... or several someone elses.

They turn the corner like a wave, sweeping into my room with enough energy that I'm momentarily afraid they will turn me over with their wake.

After Doc, two members of the party stand out immediately: Diplomat Athas Mgren and Seer Ksan Ko'Kree. But the animated discussion also includes Janice Amesly, Ryoko Hirosu, Captain Josiah Priest, and the OES' Major McMurdoe. The room is suddenly very crowded... to say the least.

"May I help you?" I ask the room with as much innocence as I can muster.

Six people start at once and I can't track any of them. Their voices raise in what must be an effort to be heard first. Only Ryoko stands silent, all the more lovely in her quiet restraint. Wow, I've gotta stop thinking about her like this.

"STOP!" I bellow and the room gets quiet. Ryoko smiles in what might be approval, while the rest mostly look at me like I've lost my mind.

"Let me start this over," I announce. "Proprieties first."

They glance at each other, but all are waiting.

"Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren. Please forgive my not bowing, I am still connected to the machines."

She bows elegantly and replies, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Please do not trouble yourself, I understand completely."

"Thank you, Ma'am." I shift my attention next to our highest ranking, "Ms. Amesly, it is an honor to see you again, Ma'am."

"Good to see you alive, Mr. Ryan. As the Imperator's representative, I am sure he would send appropriate wishes for your swift recovery. I believe you know Miss Hirosu."

"Miss?" The question is out of my mouth before I can think. "Um, yes, I have had the honor." My heartbeat just went through the roof. Ryoko's smile could mean so little or so much. NO! I've got to think. I bet I just misunderstood what Ms. Amesly said.

I look around the room, need to get my mind onto something else... I better get the Seer out of the way. "Ksan Ko'Kree, Shē'sueren."

He nods my way, but his response shows contempt, "Shawn Ryan."

Diplomat Mgren glances his way, hints of displeasure cloud her expression; but she says nothing and I choose to let the insult pass.

The two human intel officers I would rather not even have here, but I acknowledge them anyway, "Captain Priest. Major McMurdoe."

"TOG," Captain Priest responds with a grin while Major McMurdoe barely nods, standing statue-like he says nothing.

"And last but not least," I begin with a grin, "The man of the hour, Doooctooorrr Harrington."

The doctor stifles a laugh at my verbal flourish, "Ryan, you're a nut. You need to stop holding state meetings in my hospital."

"But Doc," I joke back, "I feel so safe and secure here."

He chuckles and at least his smile is genuine.

"Okay, now," I begin, wondering how to get through whatever the lot of them have planned, "Let me start with the honorable Diplomat. How may I assist you, Athas Mgren?"

Several people look annoyed, but she nods and replies, "We need to have you come to the Embassy, Shawn Ryan."

"Well," I look over at the good doctor and ask, "How soon am I ready to go?"

"Your blood work is good, you're ready to leave any time now, but you are off flight status for twenty-four hours more. You need time to make sure the prosthesis is in fact working correctly before you get in a spacecraft."

"I look back at the Diplomat and ask, "Will tomorrow do?"

Ksan looks at Harrington, "Can he be questioned planet-side in the mean time?"

"Yes, I suppose he can," the doctor replies, but his tone changes to annoyed as he adds, "But not in my hospital."

Contempt in his tone, the Seer replies, "Good. This place reeks."

"Excuse me?!" Doc seems to finally take offense at something.

"You humans are all the..."

Diplomat Mgren almost hisses with unexpected anger, "Kath! (Silence!)"

Something passes between the two of them, but I have no idea what.

"My apologies, Doctor," Ksan abruptly says, his tone more petulant than the average Xi'An ever allows in public.

"I wish to be present at any Xi'An questioning of a UEE citizen," Ms. Amesly says with an unexpected force.

"He is our Contractor," the Diplomat answers, her voice reflecting a lot of stress. "Under terms of his contract he serves at the pleasure of Emperor Kray."

"He remains a Citizen of the United Empire of Earth and as such under the authority of the Imperator and the Imperial Senate." It would seem that this is part of the argument they were having when they got here.

"May I?" I ask, hoping to diffuse some of the rising tensions before someone comes to blows. They both look my way and I continue, "Perhaps we could have the questioning at the Imperator's office in Prime and Ms. Amesly or her designee could sit in on it to help me understand some of the finer points of interstellar relations."

"Not accept..." Ksan starts, but Diplomat Mgren holds up a hand and he stops.

"If we can reconvene within two hours, I find this acceptable. We can not wait longer or the incident will be difficult to reconcile and must be reported as an attack."

Captain Priest seems to object to that, "An Attack?! Your own fool took an uncontrolled explosive aboard his own vessel and..."

"Captain?!" Janice is incensed.

"We did not attack them and they know it," he sneers.

McMurdoe choses this moment to pipe up, "I expect to be present at any questioning also."

"Bite me," I say with heartfelt emphasis.

"Excuse me?" he says, stilettos in his voice.

I glare at him and reply, "You are not someone I want in the same room unless we are both armed and I have the Senate's blessing to shoot you."

Now he stares bullets at me, "Excuse me?"

"You may forget that the last time we spoke, you had kidnapped, roughed up, and threatened to torture and kill my friends. You don't belong in the same room as good people."

"That incident is privileged. Say no more."

"As I already said, Major, Bite me!"

His temper flares, but he says quietly, "You'll get yours, Ryan."

"Perhaps you were behind Dnong's death and you rather not admit it?"

His eyes grow large, he didn't expect this and as every head in the room turns towards him he snarls, "You know I didn't."

"Perhaps. It would fit your MO, though, wouldn't it?"

"I only kill little people," he says into a room that is tomb quiet.

"Yeah, big man you are."

"Your day will come, Ryan," he replies with conviction.

I chuckle, "Get in line."


	26. Chapter 25 – Truth and Consequences

There are four of us in the cavernous hall: Diplomat Mgren, Seer Ko'Kree, Janice Amesly, and myself. Ksan wasn't happy that Athas Mgren agreed to Ms. Amesly's terms, but at least in this huge auditorium he seems to feel that he can manage the threats or at least the risks.

Oddly enough, it seems that the Seer isn't very interested in what happened to Dnong, but rather how I managed to survive the ambush at the jump out of Stanton.

"Hey, you're the one who had that M50 rigged up to allow me that much power on one engine."

"Why were you not scanning the ships behind you?"

"We were in a civilian line, there was no reason to expect an attack with guards right there."

"And the fact that the guards were part of the attack does not make you question that?"

"I've been through that jump a couple hundred times; this was the first time I was attacked there, let alone by the patrol itself."

His face gets more grim, something I had not thought possible until now. He continues, "So you played hotshot with a crippled ship rather than attempt to protect your charge?"

"What?"

"You should have kept on Kree'Gna's wing."

"I TOLD him to go."

"I bet you did," he replies in a calm monotone that drips with sarcasm.

"Would you like to hear?"

"Excuse me?"

"Let's hear what I did say."

"How?"

"MARC was recording everything and just last night gave me a copy."

"Hmmmph."

"Diplomat?"

"Yes, thank you, I would like to hear it."

"7764 and LR17, this is Pardner representing Hurston's security group. Ya'll identify yourselves, please."

"Kree'Gna, Deputy Diplomat for Emperor Kree on Imperial diplomatic business."

"Nice ship, looks fast."

Comms are silent, just incidental ship sounds.

"Pardner, This is TOG in LR17. Name is Shawn Ryan, I'm registered with Xeno Affairs as a..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know all that, just checkin'. Ya'll go on through."

We hear the sound of my jump drive warming up, then the throttle as the M50 starts to apply power.

An alarm sounds abruptly, then, all of a sudden, I'm yelling, "Kree'Gna, GO!"

The engines wind just a little before a big explosion sends the sounds of mangled machinery through the frame. The sensors are giving tones, but nothing I can readily identify.

After what seems like forever, my voice calmly orders, "Duncan, rear shields at full."

More cockpit sounds and what must be me grunting while I struggle against the g-forces my maneuvers impose.

"Duncan! Shields forward!"

Alarms start to sound more urgently as I continue to occasionally grunt against the pressures on my chest.

"Missile lock," Duncan announces emotionlessly. Moments later, he updates, "Four missiles, all locked."

I know I must be trying to kick in the afterburners.

Duncan comments on the tactic, "Fuel limited, you may not be able to roast all the darts if you continue at this rate."

"And I'll be dead if I sit still," my voice responds, maybe a little too calmly considering what was happening.

There is a dull drumming sound and Duncan announces, "Shield generator damaged, shields have failed!"

A breath, maybe ten pass, then I ask, "Missile range?"

"Thousand meters... Nine-fifty."

There is a quiet rustle of fabric, I must be deciding I can't win and hitting the MUD pack. "Missiles?"

"Five hundred meters."

"Nice riding with you, Duncan."

"Have a nice trip."

"Eject now, now..."

Chank! the canopy blows off and there is no more sound on that recording.

Diplomat Mgren looks steadily at Ms. Amesly, "Did you know this?"

"We just got a chance to listen to the whole of his recordings on the flights to the hospital and back. We did not know any of this as late as this morning."

"You expect me to believe," Ksan starts, "That you did not have access to this material? From another branch of your own government?" he sneers.

"That is correct," Janice replies with remarkable restraint.

"You must think me a fool," he replies.

"Diplomat," I interject, "Do you have complete access to everything that the Seers know?"

She seems to smile, "Of course not."

Ksan Ko'Kree may be very smart, but he somehow overlooked the possibility that this point might be raised.

"We are likewise," Janice says clearly. Conspiratorially, she continues to Athas Mgren, "Intel folks are all like that, aren't they? No one has a real need for secrets except them."

I do hope that Ms. Amesly has enough experience with the Xi'An to read the mirthful twinkle in Diplomat Mgren's eyes. I am certain, though, that even if she were a novice, she could see Ksan Ko'Kree raising the walls that mean full retreat from the conversation.

It is at this moment that three devices in the room sound... almost simultaneously.

Both the Diplomat and the Seer have an odd bell-like sound that draws immediate attention to the Xi'An communication devices they both wear. Ms. Amesly has a melodious guitar sound that plays for several seconds as she brings up her connection to the grid.

I have seen color drain from human faces on many occasions... but never from a Xi'An... until now; it is a subtle transformation, but Athas Mgren's face quickly becomes a dull green, the highlights disappearing completely. Both she and the Ksan are manually interacting with their devices.

Janice, however, has been checking something and exclaims out loud, "We got them!"

"Who?" I ask.

"Your aberrant partners and the Reclaimer."

I notice that neither of the Xi'An seem to notice this announcement.

"What have they got to say for themselves?"

"Don't know yet, but a patrol at the jump to Ellis stopped them and is currently trying to get them to stand down."

"Stand down?"

"They seem to have activated their defenses. The jump is blocked, so they aren't going anywhere and..." At this point, Ms. Amesly seems to realize that neither of the them are paying any attention to her.

I don't catch much of the quiet conversation the two are having, but I do hear Ksan Ko'Kree clearly say, "Ith shen'Ga (I agree)."

"What's the matter?" I ask.

Diplomat Athas Mgren, representative of the Xi'An Emperor and member of the Imperial Nest-Line, looks up and her eyes betray just a hint of compassion from within a face of hidden bewilderment. "We have just received word that a pair of ships was destroyed after jumping into Rihlah. The craft that attacked them were ours."

Why should that matter to... something catches in my throat. "Do you know who they were?"

"Yes..." the Diplomat's voice fades and she seems to hate the taste of the words that are forming in her mouth.

Ksan Ko'Kree has no such problems; stone faced, he announces, "The two ships destroyed were a Gladius and a Xress..."

There is a huge weight suddenly on my chest.

He finishes, "Kree'Gna's Xress."

…..

"How in the hells could your own craft attack them?!" I all but scream.

"The Gladius was improperly identified and our border pursuit craft are on high alert." He pauses and I think for just a moment I see satisfaction in his face before he continues with perhaps too much innocence, "Accidents will happen when tensions are high."

Athas Mgren's glance at him might have a hint of accusation in it, but she looks my way and expressionlessly says, "I am sorry for the loss of your friend. I will need to immediately return to the Embassy to assess the damage and prepare a new courier for his mission. Please excuse us."

We all rise and the formalities are exchanged. As they turn to leave, Ksan Ko'Kree looks briefly my way and smugly exhales. "Goodbye, Ryan."

Janice Amesly and I stand alone in the room as the door closes behind the departing Xi'An.

"What just happened?" she asks.

"They just told us that Kree'Gna and his escort are..."

"No," she interrupts, "You know the Xi'An better than I, but Seer Ko'Kree seemed to take an unexpected amount of pleasure in that news." She pauses, but before I can reply she adds, "Plus I heard his parting shot. It was like he expects not to see you again."

"You want my impressions?"

"Yes. I'll need to send off a report immediately, but I want what you sense."

"Diplomat Mgren was completely surprised, Ksan Ko'Kree was anything but. He took pleasure in what he said and I think Athas suspected something more."

"He doesn't like you, could you be reading into that?"

"Possibly," I admit. "The expressions on the more lizard-like Xi'An are harder to interpret, they don't always mean what I think they mean."

"Yeah, the dinos seem to be walls without expressions," She says disgustedly. "Well, okay, it's not like even the more common Xi'An exactly wear their feelings on their faces," she opines, "Much less in formal settings."

"Well, they try not to."

"I want your gut read, did the Xi'An just shoot down their own courier on purpose?"

"I wouldn't put it past them, but if some of them did, it was without the knowledge of others."

"Could it be the Seers?"

"Maybe, but even they have politics. I'm pretty sure Dnong and Ksan represent a smaller group... faction, maybe... within the Seers."

"Could you ask the..." she pauses, looking for something on her mobi. "Ah, yes, the Outer Ring?"

"I don't know how to contact them."

"If we sent you to Rihlah as a special diplomatic representative of the Imperator to request an audience with Emperor Kray, would you be able to try?"

I snort trying to control the laugh, then manage, "I kinda doubt they would accept me past the human confines, much less to go to Jiā. Why not one of your diplomatic corps?"

She shakes her head and continues with her original thought, "Athas Mgren is from the Imperial family, right?"

"Yes."

"What if she got permission for you?"

"I'm not sure I could even get to the border the way things are these days. And if there is a Seer led faction of their empire that doesn't want things to settle down, they have to have had elements of their Navy involved. Seers don't guard jump points, their Navy does."

"But won't they investigate?"

"If they blame a human in a Gladius for the mixup, then Ksan already gave the official response the Navy will give: it was an accident."

She shakes her head, "This is getting out of hand. Gallen is going on trial, we have enough people on this side trying to start a war, and now they have the same too?"

"I'm still an Imperial Contractor, perhaps once I'm able to fly again, we can find an alternate way to contact the Outer Ring."

"Perhaps." A thought strikes her, "Can you fly a Freelancer?"

"Well, been while since I've had reason to, but I have taken second seat a few times. Why?"

"I may ask you to do something for me if the Xi'An release you... maybe even if they keep you on."

"Fair enough, though not before tomorrow when I'm cleared to fly."

…..

I'm sitting on a low bench looking out over hundreds of rows of tea plants. The breeze is fresh but not cold. Sunset is still an hour or so away, but the colors are warming, beginning to bathe everything in golden hues. Near at hand, a troop of chickadees is picking its way through the bushes that survived the blast, snatching bugs and locating the odd hidden seeds.

It all seems so peaceful... not at all like the maelstrom inside me. Kree'Gna was the being I had known longer than any other and his loss carves a hole in me. We had flown together when neither of us was worth more than our meager possessions... well, I did have a starship but still... and we made our way as unlikely friends amid hostile looks from both sides. We have both saved the other's life several times, I hurt that I wasn't there to protect him this time.

There's an unnatural roar in the sky and what little peace I've found flees like a scared rabbit. Jurdi's 'Lancer is on approach, her movements are smooth and efficient and the craft settles quickly onto the pad outside the hangar doors. From where I sit, I can see Bashir is at the controls with Jurdi in the second seat; it's a textbook landing, but I wonder who was piloting. I suspect they both know I saw them, maybe I can at least pass this test. The gangway opens but the two disembark towards the hangar entrance, each holding one of the little children.

Maybe I should wait a bit, best to not provoke anything.

…..

My mobi chimes in the approaching dark and the holo comes up; it's Ms. Amesly, looking tired and rather drained.

"Yellow," I say and my video feed goes through.

"There you are. I'm getting data back from the Imperator, he wants to wait and see what the Xi'An do. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, not a problem. I would have had to report it to the Senate Intel Committee if I had spoken to him, so this is fine."

"Good."

There is an odd jump in the signal and Janice asks, "Can you still see and hear me?"

"Sure, but there was..."

"I switched to encryption; the chip I gave you appears to still be working. I see you now have it in a Tonkor. I'm sending you a new sequence; it will arrive in parts, assemble the parts in messages 1, 4, 5, 7, and 9. Repeat that back to me."

"Um..." I try to hold onto her message, "145,79."

"If that's what it takes, fine. After you are done, discard all messages and move to a secure area where we can talk without being overheard. Your control seed for this conversation is your flight name. Think you can handle that?"

I nod enough that she can see it and she signs off with, "Talk with you soon."

My message buffer shows a stream of incoming messages, each from a different source. The bundle of messages stops at twelve, but how do I know if all of these are from her? I open each, and it does appear that they all have a frequency embedded and a cypher name. I do hope the cyphers match something on the chip, if not, there won't be much talking. I select message one and drag it onto a sequence interface. Next comes four. I add the remaining three, create the sequence, and then delete the whole stack.

I walk down the path through rows of waist-high plants now looking black in the twilight gloom. I raise the glove and, selecting the new sequence, I connect out.

The interface asks, "Seed?"

"TOG." I reply.

Across the holo comes the request: "Please spell."

"Tango October Golf."

"TOG?"

"Yes."

A message displays, "Connecting."

"I was starting to wonder," Janice Amesly looks pleased.

"I'm old and slow."

She laughs, "That isn't my experience."

"Thanks."

"Okay, your new seed for now will be the timestamp from the initiating contact. Please change that and call me back."

"Getting a bit of cloak and dagger, aren't we?"

"You want McMurdoe listening in?"

"No," I admit.

"Good. MARC will probably find a way, but if we rotate the seeds, it will take them a while with short conversations in a five-deep."

…..

"That went faster," Janice says approvingly, "Okay, you are not going to hear directly from the Imperator, so you won't be liable to that witch Starrington."

Chuckling, I reply, "I take it you don't like her either."

"She thinks she and others like her are Imperator Costigan's betters and wants to limit his ability to keep the peace."

"No hostility there," I say with more sarcasm than the average statement could hold.

She rolls her eyes, "That's right, Captain Obvious."

"Gee, thanks," I smirk.

"Stop it," she giggles, then her face gets serious. "We had been getting close to an agreement with Torsi Leelk and Attle Heehth, High Council Advisor to Emperor Kray. The talks broke off when Dnong Ksack died and now with Kree'Gna lost, we aren't sure what will happen next. Gallen's trial has actually already begun, though the Xi'An preliminaries are likely to take a ten-day or more."

"Is one of ours representing him?"

"He has no representation. Doesn't even speak Xi'An with anything like fluency."

"Show trial?"

"What we have been shown is actually quite damning. Dnong appears to have assembled enough evidence that Gallen was trying to navigate through Xi'An space to the Kr'Thak border. He had a stolen jump coordinate, one he had apparently bought from someone, and was trying to bribe a high ranking Civil Servant on Rihlah, a member of the Imperial family no less, for information on any jumps that would be beyond those two."

"Wow," I exhale. "They execute their own for even attempting to corrupt a civil servant into committing treason."

"Yes. Without an agreement, Gallen will be spaced after his conviction."

"So, where do I come in?"

"We think there is a leak, though now we don't know which side that leak is on. You are still an unknown, though Leelk... and undoubtedly his superiors... know you are a link directly to the Imperator. If you can get in, you can carry a message to the High Council and Emperor Kray."

"What message?"

She frowns and admits, "I don't know yet."

…..

Jurdi's 'Lancer quietly sits inside the bay on the free pad, my 350 and 315 occupying the other two. "Shawn?" her voice calls in a way that makes my heart beat faster. I look around and finally see her on the balcony, waving.

"Jurdi! How are you?"

"Doing good, you want some dinner? Dean's late and I've got plenty."

Somewhere behind her I hear Bashir loudly moan, "Mom?!"

"I've got to get some things taken care of," I answer, "But I can step up there and have something quick if you really want."

"Really want? I asked you, didn't I?"

Again I hear Bashir's voice, but his hiss is too low to be sure what he is saying.

I grin and reply to Jurdi's question, "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good, I've got lamb and chicken kabobs and fresh fatayer. Even Bashir's appetite isn't so big as to need it all."

I chuckle, but wonder what I'm getting myself into.

I reach out to open the elevator, but something presses unexpectedly into my back.

"You don't need to go up there, Ryan."

"McMurdoe."

"Like I said, stay down here." He seems to evaluate my lack of movement as agreeing, "Good, now let's get those hands out where I can see them."

"I'm unarmed."

"I don't care," his dry tone sounds far less than agreeable; if anything, I think he is angry, but in that deadly controlled way he seems to have.

I put my hands out far enough that he can clearly see them.

"Good, now, left hand slowly behind your back."

"Excuse me, but what's going on...?" Dean's voice comes from behind us.

"Back off," the Major interrupts in a commanding tone as the gun's muzzle leaves my back.

In a moment of clarity, I know I'm going to have to act.

My left arm is already in motion, now I pivot to bring my elbow hard into what turns out to be the side of McMurdoe's face. A grunt escapes him and though his laser isn't pointed at either of us, it slashes out anyway.

I don't let him regain his balance, bringing my right fist around with the rest of my body.

He parries, but now Dean is engaged as well, grabbing his right hand and disarming him with a violent twist and the painful sound of something breaking.

The first hint of emotion on McMurdoe's face is surprise, but raw hatred flashes through as I manage to land as hard a blow as I've ever delivered to his jaw. Something cracks and the stone man stumbles as Dean finishes restraining him from behind.

"Dean?" Bashirs voice sounds hopeful, he seems to have missed the fact that we are fighting with someone. That realization must come to him once he looks over the railing, "Whoa! MOM!"

"I'll kill you, Ryan," McMurdoe breathes.

"Not if I kill you now," I reply, murder in my heart, daggers in my eyes, and ice in my voice.

"No, Shawn," Dean says quietly.

"He will never stop if I don't. And you, Jurdi, and the kids will never be safe either."

"We will take our chances, Shawn. I can't let you kill him, not like this."

"He's an OES rogue."

"I don't care. The Lord doesn't want it."

"What?"

"It's wrong. Just as wrong as what he was probably going to do."

"He was going to murder me and maybe Jurdi and the kids if they saw anything."

Bashir's voice comes from just behind Dean, "Dean? What's going on?"

Dean's head turns and McMurdoe senses his chance. His right heel comes up hard into Dean's groin and the big man's grip eases as he responds in understandable pain.

Above us, Jamila screams as the Major slashes out at me with fury, a small blade appearing as if fired into his hand.

I duck back, the blade just nicking my chin.

Dean finishes collapsing in agony and I hear the lift behind me; Jurdi must be trying to come down.

McMurdoe lunges, but his now mangled right hand seems to bring him up short as I move to shelter the lift. The Major, however, seems to have meant for me to do this, he wheels and suddenly has his little blade against Bashir's throat, his broken right wrist evident as he wraps that arm around the startled boy's shoulder.

"Ryan," he says with a deadly calm. "Care to trade?"

The lift behind me opens and I have to use my arm to restrain Jurdi before she can rush into the fray.

"Bashir!" she screams over my shoulder, all but knocking my eardrum out.

"Stop!" I command and she seems to hold as Bashir is jerked almost off his feet as McMurdoe pulls him back out of reach.

"Me for the boy," I say quietly.

Bashir's eyes, laden with fright, open wide as if to see me for the first time.

"Good choice, Ryan. Tell the woman to lay down on the floor."

I feel her breath on my ear, "Jurdi, please."

"No, there has to be another way," she moans, but I can tell from the sound her clothing makes that she is moving onto the hangar floor.

"Boy, reach your right hand back to my right back pocket, take my binders out and toss them to Ryan."

Bashir seemingly frozen in place, doesn't respond.

"Did you understand me?" the Major snaps and I see Bashir gingerly reaching back towards his tormentor's waist. Moments later, he has a pair of heavy metal binders that he tosses gingerly my way.

As the metal clatters to the floor a meter in front of me, McMurdoe orders, "Put them on, Ryan."

Bashir gasps as his captor pushes his blade against the teen's bare neck and a thin trickle of red starts from it's point.

"Don't hurt the boy or I'll tie you out as live somal bait," I say, my voice matching his for ice.

"Don't tempt me," he snarls.

"I told you I would trade; you already know I keep my word. Let him go."

"Not likely."

Our eyes are locked as I crouch down to reach for the binders. They are cold in my hands, and I lock the right hand in.

"You've drawn blood," I reply, rage welling up inside of me. "I promise you, I will kill you at least as viciously as you've EVER done if you hurt him any more." I stand, one hand still free.

"The other one, too."

Slight motion out of the side of my eye tells me Dean is recovering. "Bashir for me is the deal. Take it or leave it," I say, moving slightly away from the lift, as if towards one of my ships.

"I intend to take you, but I'm no fool," the Major replies, icy control again returning as his eyes track me.

Dean's weight shifts noiselessly and I see him raise the Major's laser. The weapon discharges and the side of McMurdoe's head opens to an explosion of vaporized brain and skull. The knife drops limply from his hand and he slumps heavily onto Bashir's shoulders.

Everyone is in motion, Jurdi moving to Bashir, Dean moving to cover her, and I collapsing in sudden exhaustion onto the floor.

…..

"Mr. Ryan," the local police chief is finally getting to me. "You doing better now?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Looks like they gave you something before they did your stitches, you able to answer some questions?"

I absentmindedly touch the rough lumps on my chin that mark where they have stitched closed the gash that I had mistakenly thought but a scratch. I'll need to go back to the hospital for the autodoc to seal me up properly, but at least now I'm not bleeding out. My clothes may have a pint in them, but at least I'm not going to pass out again.

"Fire away, chief."

"What can you tell me about the deceased?"

"Major McMurdoe, OES."

The officer's face pales, "Excuse me, did you say 'OES'?"

"Yeah. Rogue associate. Shen Po will probably be here shortly to sort it out."

"I thought OES was just a story, a myth made to keep the Advocacy looking good when they get out of control."

"Nope."

"So... who are you?"

"Shawn Ryan."

"I already know that... but if they exist, why would OES want a tea grower?"

"I work for other people as well."

"Such as..."

"He is working with us," Janice Amesly interrupts confidently from behind me. I glance back and see her holding out an Imperator's Office Id for him to scan.

"And what does the Imperator's office know about this?"

"That is restricted information, Officer. Ryan, you are not to answer any more questions at this time, is that clear?"

I shrug, "Well..."

"Is that clear?" she asks demandingly.

I let my eyebrows rise and answer, "Yes, Ma'am."

The chief nods her way and comments, "When he can, please let him at least give me a statement on what happened."

"Ryan, you may answer that."

"Thanks, Ma'am." I turn to the cop and describe what happened.

…..

"You are getting to be a full time job," Ms. Amesly opines as we munch on cold lamb and chicken kabobs that Jurdi has graciously shared. We're sitting on the floor upstairs by the control consoles on a nice soft carpet.

Someone clears his throat behind me and Janice smiles warmly. I turn to see Bashir standing wearing an expression I've never seen.

"Bashir?" I ask.

He kneels beside me and holds out his hands; across them lies an ancient ornate dagger with an oddly curved blade and its heavy sheath.

"Please, this is for you," he says with choking emotion.

"Why?"

"You were going to trade yourself for me," he says humbly.

"Yeah, but what's this for?"

"I have hated you and you still cared for me. I wish to ask your forgiveness."

"You don't have to give me anything to get that."

He looks me in the eye, a glint of tear trying to escape, "You forgive me for all the things I've said to you? Or the stuff I've said about you?"

I shrug, "Yeah, why not? Life's too short to sweat it, I've always just wanted to be friends."

He smiles shyly, "Well... I still want you to have this, it was my father's... he left it with us when he deserted us but it is still special to me. Please... take it," he is pleading for some reason.

"If it means so much to you, then even though I'm not worthy of your gift, I'll accept it."

His expression deepens into appreciation and he lays the blade and its scabbard on my hands, then rises and walks away to where Jurdi and the younger children are.

"You know," Janice says through a knowing expression, "You really have a way with people... you either piss them off enough to get them to want to kill you or you make them loyal to the point of taking the proverbial bullet."

"You flatter me."

"Not in the least. A blind person could see that you just bought yourself another loyalist."

"Bashir?"

"Yup. I know what you did down there, and I'm sure any of us would have done the same, but you make him come to you and offer appreciation."

"I did not," I reply indignantly.

"You misunderstand, what you did got through to him somehow. I suspect you'll never be his dad, but you just became his favorite uncle."

I smile, "Jix."

"Yup. Your Xi'An friends are right, you are special somehow."

…..

"Mr. Ryan?" a familiar voice asks.

"Yes?" I ask, looking up from a mobi screen. Janice has left and I'm sitting on the ladder for the 350 trying to decide if I can sleep with my chin like this or if I need to fly to the hospital before I try to rest.

Gordon Bellforte is eying me as he replies, "Mr. Po asked me to stop by and have a chat."

"That sounds modestly understated. You here to kill me, too?"

He laughs, "No, but we would like you to come visit and explain what happened."

"What if I just get the security recordings and you can take copies back?"

"Well, we would like them, too, but it's not quite the same. We do promise to return you safely back here tomorrow."

"No torture?"

He chuckles, "Nah, unless we are out of that hot spice you like and you have to eat normal food."

I laugh.

He adds, "A night on a warm tropical island with breakfast?"

"I still need to go by the hospital to get the autodoc to fix this," I comment, touching my now aching face at the stitches.

"We have the best medical options on-world, bar none."

"Really?"

"We'll even tune up that new leg of yours."

"No bugs," I insist.

"No bugs. We just need to know what happened... and more importantly, why it happened."

"You going to be able to handle me without Xin around?"

He laughs, "The place isn't the same without her, but yes, we'll treat you like a guest anyway."

Deep down, I know I'll have to address this or they will be after me and those I care for. "Sure, mind if I just bring the explorer there?"

"The 315?"

"Sure."

"Don't trust us with your 350?"

"Not as far as I can throw you."

He laughs, "Sure, bring her along."

"What about me?" Dean's calm voice asks and both Mr. Bellforte and I look his way.

"You never sleep, do you?" Gordon quips with an agreeable grin.

"Just watching out for my elders," Olivian retorts.

I have to interject, "Hey, I resemble that remark."

"Of course you do," Bellforte says deadpan.

"Okay," I say, "We are having too much fun here. Dean, you should stay with Jurdi and the kids."

"I'm the one that shot the jerk, shouldn't I be the one he questions?"

Gordon looks back and forth between us, then nods and replies, "Actually, I bet the boss would be glad to have the two of you there at the same time."

"I'll leave a note for Jurdi on where to find us."

Gordon chuckles, "Well, you've got to remember that we're a secretive organization."

"Yeah, right," I say with at least a little sarcasm.

"Satellites actually show open ocean there," he grins. "But I understand, we don't want her Freelancer trying to find us with your last known coordinates."

Dean nods and turns for the lift.

"You seem to have your own loyal bodyguard."

"Nah, just a friend who doesn't like having friends abused."

Gordon grins, "Can't hire them like that."

"Don't I know it," I agree.

…..

The little 315P hatch opens and warm tropical night air sweeps in. At the foot of the ladder, a tall thin man in t-shirt, shorts, and sandals awaits.

"Gentlemen, welcome. Your rooms are prepared, please follow me."

Dean and I look each other's way, then climb down into the well lit hangar. Without further preamble, our greeter has turned and we follow him out into the starlit night.

…..

My bungalow doors open onto the beach, just like they did those months ago when I last visited. Surf plays a lazy rhythm as weariness overtakes me. The sheets are soft and my chin has been treated well enough that it no longer hurts. Sleep is stealing to my bedside, gently pouncing upon my prone form as too many hours of urgency weaken me to its advance.

…..

It's an odd feeling to waken in a comfortable bed to exotic flower smells wafting on warm gentle breezes. Birds seems to have chosen my doorway to have a raucous conversation, squabbling over some pecking order.

A loud knock at the front door makes me realize that I must have heard the same already; that rapping is what has woken me.

"Yes?" I call into the air.

"Breakfast in five minutes, sir."

"Yeah, be right there."

I stretch and as I sit up I discover comfortable clothes have been laid out for me on a nearby chair. I'm not sure if I should be offended by the valet service or just accept that this counts as courtesy in the heart of spydom on Terra.

…..

"Very good," Dean compliments as another mouthful of fish heads for his mouth.

"So that's why Bashir likes you so much," I quip as Mr. and Ms. Po and Gordon Bellforte look on.

Shen Po looks my way and asks, "Explain?" while Dean cheerily chews his mouthful.

"Well, I seem to remember that teens eat like the food will run out before they're done."

Swallowing, Dean grins back, "Hey, I'm just a growing boy. Fuel for the fire, you know?" Another heaping forkful heads for his mouth.

"This is my fire," I reply, shaking the little bottle of Rat's Blood over my fillet.

"You two are quite the comic pair," Ms. Po comments. "We should hire you for entertainment."

Dean has finished the bite and comments, "You couldn't afford me, much less the great and powerful Oz... or is it Oldz?"

I let a silliness escape, blowing a noisy raspberry at him.

"Ew... old guy spit!" Olivian shows mock horror.

"Mai's right," Shen Po observes, "You two are a couple of nuts."

Dean shifts suddenly to a serious tone, staring back at Mr. Po, "So why are your people after Shawn? Can't take a joke?"

Gordon seems the quickest to match the change, answering, "We aren't actually sure why the Major decided to go after Ryan last night. We were hoping he could tell us."

All eyes turn my way, "First time I had seen him since he threatened Camilla was yesterday morning in the hospital. If it had been up to me, I'd have had him ejected from my room."

"Did you say anything to him then?"

"Damn straight. He seemed to think he could just demand whatever suited him and I told him off. His comment about only killing little people didn't help the tone."

"He said that?" Mai asks, concern evident.

"Yes, Ma'am. I basically told him where to put it."

Gordon and Shen share a look, then the latter asks, "And he took that graciously?"

I actually laugh, "Yeah, right."

"Were there others in the room?"

"Just the Doctor, a couple Xi'An officials, Captain Priest, and Janice Amesly from the Imperator's Office."

The three OES types share some silent communication and Mr. Po asks, "Do you two mind if we withdraw for a while to confer?"

Dean looks my way and shrugs.

"Have at," I comment and the three of them rise and excuse themselves.

As the two of us continue our breakfasts, Dean jokes, "Told you that stuff will give you bad breath." We share a knowing nod and he is already ladling another bite for consumption.


	27. Chapter 26 – Catchup

The three OES officers sit still, the recording from last night has just finished. None of them move, while Dean and I sit studying them.

I decide to break the silence, "So, was he really there on orders or was he..."

Mai Po says clearly, "He was off the reservation."

"Way off," Shen Po adds, his head moving just a little back and forth like he is ashamed to admit it.

Dean speaks up, "What about his threats to Ms. Abboud and I the other day?"

"He was not authorized to threaten... only to ask," Mr. Po answers, his tone subdued.

I remember my time in New Austin and quip, "You mean 'ask' like your troops in the Xeno Affairs office do?"

Each Po glares at me, while Gordon is expressionless, offering nothing and only glancing at Dean once.

"Ryan, you do like to provoke, don't you?"

"Remind me again, what kinds of discussions was I subjected to before I was invited out here the first time?"

Scowling, Mr. Po looks ready to reply, but the tension breaks unexpectedly as Ms Po's device chimes; the three of them look at it, then she frowns and initiates her projection. "Shen!"

"What?"

She holds the device up for him to see.

"Ryan, you need to get out of here," Shen Po states.

"Why is that?"

"Someone just sent Mai a message saying you need to leave."

I chuckle, "Why would that matter?"

"Because no one except my superiors and ourselves should be able to contact my wife here."

"Xin?" I ask and Ms. Po winces.

"Perhaps. But for her to know you are here..."

"MARC knows."

Gordon's eyes scan the room, Shen's do as well.

"Just ours, boss," Bellforte states.

I offer, "They had your number when I was here last time."

Mai shakes her head, "They do not lightly give away their actions. If it were not for you, we would not know of their reach at all."

"Well, who else would even care if I'm..."

"Ryan," Mr. Po interrupts.

"Yes, sir?"

"We work for the Imperial Senate."

I sit in silence trying to piece together what... then his meaning dawns: "The Intelligence Committee?"

His nod and smile are my answer.

"I thought the Imperator had control."

"OES is a Senate controlled organization. The Imperator's control is only to limited degree, Senator Starrington and the rest of the Intel Committee have most of the real power over us. It's part of the post-Messer balance."

Another thought strikes, "Could Carl exercise control?"

Shen Po smiles but well worn pain shows, "Yes, if he were enough of an ass about it."

Mai leans towards her husband and whispers something. Mr. Po nods and says, "We have what we need, the two of you should go."

Dean and I exchange a glance and rise from the table.

"One other thing, Ryan," Mr. Po quietly offers, "I'm sending your mobi a Spectrum link that you may use to contact me if any more of my people are acting..." he wants me to know he is choosing his words very carefully, "... strangely."

I look down at my connectionless Tonkor glove, then give him a rather humorless expression.

"Once you are out of the bubble," he observes, "It will touch the grid again."

…..

I'm not quite sure how far out we are from Po's little island, but almost in unison both Dean's and my mobis start making noise. I quickly realize that the glove design is indeed superior to one on the arm, neither of my hands leaves the flight controls but I'm immediately able to use my thumb to drag the mobi data onto a corner of the HUD.

Dean speaks before I do, "Jurdi is going nuts... oh, and I've got a message from the Advocacy asking me to contact."

I glance through my list and see much the same, "Yup, got those two, plus a pair from the Xi'An, one from the... no, correct that, two from the UEEN, one from the Imperial Senate, and..." Hmmm... maybe I shouldn't mention that there are encrypted ones here from the Imperator's office and from "G".

"At least one you shouldn't say out loud?" he asks from the jumpseat.

"Yeah, something like that. Jurdi seems to be pretty upset."

"Yes, sir. She has some choice words at least for me."

I look through mine and see something similar. "Boy, she can sure tear a new one, even though she uses words no one could be offended by."

Dean sounds almost awestruck, "Yeah, kinda like a priest I used to know."

Oddly enough, this reminds me of last night. "Got a question for you."

"Shoot," he replies.

"Would you really have tried to stop me from taking McMurdoe out if Bash..."

"Yes," he interrupts.

"Do you really know what I was going to say?"

"Would I have stopped you from murdering the OES guy if Bashir hadn't interrupted us?"

"Murdering?"

"It would have been murder."

"It would have been the right thing to do, he would have killed Bashir and the rest of you once he was free."

He sounds patient when he answers, "No. It is never right to murder."

"No?" I reply incredulously, "But then the bad guy wins."

"Bad guys only win in the long run if God is dead."

"What?! Bad guys win all the time."

"Only in the short term."

"You haven't been out here very much, have you?"

"You forget," he gently chides, "I've been out here as much or more than you have. Sataball champ, remember? You have no idea the scuzz that is attracted to us."

I'm having trouble getting my mind around this. "Yet you shot him," I finally counter.

"He was actively attacking Bashir."

"How is that different? He would have anyway."

"You don't know that. If we had maintained control, he could still have chosen to do otherwise."

"Come again?"

"It was his choice to attack an innocent person. Neither of us has the right to defend ourselves by murder, by assuming he would do something so evil... even if we could reasonably expect he would. Once he chose to attack another person, however, I was justified in defending that life."

"Seems like a fine line."

"Yes, one that's been used to justify wars... even though I doubt it was the real reason most times."

"Are you getting deep on me?"

He laughs as we begin descent towards the plantation, "Yeah, maybe this is enough theology for now. I'm so used to debating with other postulates, I guess you aren't ready for that."

"Good, my head is about to explode."

…..

The tea forms rows of emerald in the morning sunshine, with a dozen or so white hats of the pickers dotting the scene at something of a regular interval. My hangar doors open and the little 315 smoothly pivots for me to back her into her place. Jurdi is standing by her Freelancer, I can't tell if she is happy or angry as her arm shields her face from the thruster-wash. Power down, and Dean is opening the hatch while the heavy Aeroview doors slide closed; the peaceful view in front of us disappears.

I can hear her from here, "Dean Olivian! Where have you been?!"

I unbuckle the harness and look out towards the side of the craft, expecting confrontation. What I see, however, is Dean and Jurdi wrapped in each other's arms... and somewhere inside, my heart sinks just a little more.

…..

I look at the message titles and the one from Ryoko Hirosu stands out, "READ THIS FIRST!" I'm not sure why she feels she has to scream it, but as the encryption software does its job, the reasons quickly become evident:

"I hope you have opened this message before you have checked your message(s) from the Senate. You are hereby instructed to take your 350R to rendezvous with Xi'An diplomats and do as they instruct. Do NOT open any messages from the Senate until instructed to do so by this office. We have received reliable information that they are attempting to have you report for hearings on Earth, with hopes of disrupting the Imperator's negotiations. It is our suspicion that they will likely also order you detained once you report. Your message viewed time-stamp on this message is your protection from contempt charges if you have not viewed their communications already."

I voice a quick reply, "Message received, I'm doing as instructed. Will the Navy know the difference if the Senate issues a detain order?"

Once sent, I look at Gloria's message, "Senate appears likely to find excuse to have you arrested or terminated. Communications from McMurdoe to accounts on Select Committee member ids indicate he was acting under orders from at least one member; Po . were out of the loop. Priest seems to be cooperating with Amesly to find alternatives. Have fun! Oh, Lanai and Xin send greets." She finishes with a smiley face, of all things. I am so obviously off the deep end that this little flourish starts me laughing.

The Navy messages are next. The first is from an inspecting officer at one of the permanent jump point monitor stations; it covers her examination of the recently docked Renewal. It sounds like the Reclaimer has taken quite a bit of fire and will need repairs before it is able to return to productive work... it's pretty much what I expected. I also note that she has attached a link to the UEEN action report. Basically, it is short and simple: Reclaimer ordered to stand by, Reclaimer powered weapons and opened fire on the Naval patrol, Reclaimer ordered to stand down, Idris and a second patrol joined the engagement, Reclaimer powered down after shields failed.

The second message, though, looks more interesting... it a much longer report from the officer who led the boarding party after Renewal was crippled. The relevant part of the contact log reads:

2943.11.01:1354 Kilian Local; Boarding Action on Interdicted Reclaimer "Renewal", Lt. Jabr, commanding.

…

1415: Arrived at docking hatch; quickly achieved good seal and normal interconnection.

1418: Chief Arrys opened hatch and gave "clear"; GSgt. Flores led into vessel, with no initial contact.

1419: Bridge secured, no contact. Chief Arrys given conn.

1421: Small arms contact, main hold. PFC Howard injured (laser injury to Rt. forearm). Contact KIA: mulatto male; no id (checked both MilSpect and civ Spectrum.)

1430: Main hold secured, no further contact.

1433: Small arms contact, crew compartment. Contact KIA, white male, Id confirmed as Jonas Salt, Advocacy warrants for slavery and piracy, plus seven other system bounties.

1447: Crew compartment secured, no further contact.

1451: Sickbay, body located in iced morgue bag. White female, Id confirmed as Svetlana Tolstoy, no warrants. Note, subject appears to have been deceased for several days, fatal ballistic trauma to head noted; wound seems to imply point-blank execution from behind.

1512: Sickbay secured, no contact.

1517: No further contact, ship secured.

Shootouts on the Renewal? Just great, it's a crime scene now. Maybe I'll get to sell it... someday. And Lana executed, perhaps dead for several days... what on Terra does that mean? Next, was the unidentified man the Professor? And just who the heck was Jonas Salt and why was he on my ship?

I'm about to voice a reply with some of my questions when my mobi alerts to an incoming message from Janice Amesly marked urgent. It decrypts quickly:

"Shawn, change in plans: you will be picked up at your location within the next half hour by a UEEN officer of mutual acquaintance. DO NOT interact with Senate or OES contacts unless instructed otherwise by this office."

I've barely finished reading this when I get another one from "G":

"Looks like Cpt. Priest will be picking you up. Make sure Ms. Abboud selects something for you to wear to the Embassy (she has much better taste than you do), tell her you are meeting important people. Make sure you also take all your flight gear with you, communications imply that you may be gone for a while and need it.

Things are moving way too fast. What is going on?

…..

A 'Lancer MIS drops expertly onto my pad, but it isn't a Navy bird. Nothing like all those missiles pointing into my bay to make me very nervous. Fortunately, Captain Priest is coming down the stairs towards me with an irritating grin.

"Well, look what I found," he jokes, walking up for a quick fist bump and grabbing my bag. "You look almost human."

I look down at the getup Jurdi picked, feeling the least human I can remember. She has me wearing a long black leather prowler coat, its overflap and muted clasps run off-center down the right side of my chest. Under that is a pale blue Earth linen shirt, clasped at the throat, but with the buttons also offset to the right. My pants are some finely creased fabric in a color that matches my coat... but they are uncomfortably stiff compared to a good flight suit or a normal pair of jeans. Finally, I have my dragonskins... at least that is familiar.

Priest raises an eyebrow, perhaps expecting me to comment.

I oblige, "I feel like a performing monkey in heels."

Chuckling, he retorts, "Now you can imagine what it's like in uniform."

"Nope, I don't even want to imagine that."

He shrugs, still finding humor in the situation. "This way," he gestures to the stairway into his ship's belly. "I guess the principals are gathering, no reason to keep them waiting."

"Any idea who?"

"Not sure about all of them, but at least Amesly and Coso from our side, perhaps Sharrad as well. Amesly has told me that Leelk and Heehth will be there along with Mgren." He looks at me carefully, evaluating again. "If you want my advice, say as little as you can with these people, nothing at all would be better. My own opinion is that you are just being shown to Heehth, the other Xi'An at least know you in passing and neither Coso nor Sharrad are really important for what you may need to do."

"So why did I have to do the monkey suit?" I choke, looking down at my getup.

"No clue," he shrugs. "Ready?"

"Lead on, Captain."

…..

"Ever play with a good military helmet, TOG?"

We have just cleared atmo en route to the Xi'An Embassy and I must admit that the question is quite unexpected.

"What?"

"Have you tried out a top tier military grade combat helmet?"

"Still trying to get me to join up?"

"Actually, no. I do think you might consider a milspec combat helmet, we have some interesting technologies that civilian helms are a little weak on."

I pat my bag, "Mine has served me well for a long time."

"There's a Bell Milspec 440 on your left under the console. Humor me, okay?"

"Okay," I agree with a dismissive shrug. The new looking headgear is indeed where he said, and true to form it slips on and snugs itself to my head; the collar ring clicks and the HUD projector focuses its output to my corneas. "That's annoying," I comment.

"What?"

"The direct HUD. I can't look away."

"Sorry, that is one of the drawbacks of the 440 if you aren't comfortable with it. On the other hand, why don't you flip the training switch on the sim console."

He must be trying to get my mind off of something, but I decide maybe that's what I need. I find the little rocker switch and toggle it to "Training". Something in the helmet starts to tingle against my right temple and... "That's odd."

"What's odd?"

"I suddenly have this metallic taste in my mouth."

"Good."

"Excuse me?"

"Just wait. I'm going to let you play a combat sim enroute. Your controls are now slaved to the sim and won't impact our flight."

"Sure, whatever," my bored tone changes as I "see" a new complex environment with multiple bogeys. The controls are in my hands before I really think about it and I'm suddenly in the flow, targets seem easy prey and it doesn't take long to clear the field. A second wave comes in and I'm rolling and firing, making the most of energy and ballistics, shields and throttle, and my missile racks go all but unused. The hostiles go down much faster than I might have expected and my virtual ship is undamaged.

"Take it off of easy mode," I comment.

"TOG."

"What?"

"We're almost there. You can take the helmet off."

"You start a sim and then rush us over there?"

"Nope. But I set you up to try tDCS for combat piloting. You scored in the 97th percentile with that on."

"I don't understand."

"Just something to get the old brain working like a young one again. Judging by your movements and score, I would say you were in the zone the whole time." My expression must tell him that I'm at least a little skeptical, because he adds, "I'll explain it one of these days or you can check the Spectrum. In the mean time, just know that it also works during the real thing." He glances my way and adds with a grin, "Just sayin'."

The Xi'An Embassy glows faintly in the starlight as we approach. I've been sitting in what is usually the pilot's seat the whole trip, but haven't been doing anything with the controls; Captain Priest said he prefers the copilot's position to pilot from and I'm not interested in arguing with him.

"You ever fly these?" he asks unexpectedly and it strikes me that someone else has asked me that recently.

"I've sat second on a few of the variants, but not this one."

"Want to get a feel for her?"

I shrug but he insists, "Oh, come on, where's your spirit of adventure?"

"That what that was? I think I left that behind on a Covalex many cycles ago."

He laughs, then says, "Well, you've managed to slack off the whole trip, if we're going to land, you're need to contribute some effort." With this statement, he drops the throttle to zero, leans back, and folds his arms across his chest.

"Really?" I ask with more than a hint of annoyance.

"Fly or sit. I could care less, TOG."

I roll my eyes at him, but I also lean forward and take the controls, "Fine. You've got the ID, you call us in."

"Fair enough," he replies. "Xi'An Embassy Control, UEE Lancer Argo E184.17794M on approach. You should be expecting us."

"Argo 794, Xi'An EmCon. You are clear to land in bay 17, hold at 20 meters for security scan. Landing assist will complete the landing once you are cleared."

"Copy, EmCon."

He looks over my way, but before he can ask, I reply, "Got it."

…..

The Argo answers her controls almost too easily, every move I make is the right one as far as this craft is concerned. "You still got that training thing turned on?" I ask the Captain.

"Nope. But you are in the after-effect period, something of a heightened period of response. Works pretty good, doesn't it?"

The bland wall of the main docking area is much closer now and many details are visible, including the blinking control pattern that guides me to bay 17.

"Well, hard to tell. I don't remember 'Lancers being this easy to fly, but it has been a long time."

"Well, right now, you are handling it like a pro."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Captain."

"Just stating fact, Ryan, no flattery involved."

At twenty meters, I stop the last creeping approach and we sit. Alarms flash from the scans as my hands fall away from the controls. We are scanned quickly and then the indicators fall dark; a landing assist tractor quickly locks onto us and we glide into the bay. Beside our craft are two other UEE ships, a big Phoenix with the UEE Diplomatic Corps insignia and an Origin 300i with the Imperator's Office seal.

Captain Priest turns in his seat and quietly says, "This ship is at your disposal. It has been arranged by Janice Amesly with my complete cooperation and a Certification of Loan has been submitted to Naval and Advocacy databases to show that your tea plantation is using it legally."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is your ship for this mission. Trust me, not everyone in the government is out to get you. Ms. Amesly will have more for you soon."

"I don't..." but can't finish because he is exiting the cabin without waiting to hear me.

A Xi'An contingent with mostly military security personnel greets us as we step off the ship, Ksan Ko'Kree is among them.

Oddly, he ignores me completely, speaking directly to Captain Priest, "Captain, if you will follow me, I will escort you to your ship."

"What?" I ask, but neither of them are paying attention. I try to follow, but a huge female in combat gear steps between and behind me an officer with a thick accent says, "Shawn Ryan is to follow."

"What's going on?" I ask, but it seems this is more English than the officer knows; he does the Xi'An equivalent of shrugging and simply repeats, "Shawn Ryan is to follow."

…..

We enter the great hall, its towering windows alight with Terra's brilliant rays. Diplomat Mgren turns at my entrance and gestures for me to join a group standing together near the dias.

I bow deeply and begin, "Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren."

Her expression becomes a warm smile, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren." She turns to a Spartanly attired female with Civil Service and Imperial Nestline glyphs, plus one I don't recognize and says, "Attle Heehth, please see Imperial Contractor Shawn Ryan." As Heehth seems to appraise me, Diplomat Mgren turns back to me and says, "Shawn Ryan, please see High Council Advisor to His Imperial Majesty Emperor Kray, Attle Heehth."

I bow even more deeply to the Advisor and say, "Mahhragna ith ilxag (I am too humble for such honors)."

I imagine a hint of amusement in her look as I straighten up, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Attle Heehth," I reply somberly, "Shē'sueren."

Athas Mgren says to me, "I believe you already know Diplomat Leelk."

I bow in his direction and offer, "Torsi Leelk, Shē'sueren."

He replies in kind, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Now that the formalities are out of the way," Athas Mgren suggests, "Perhaps you would like to join your delegation." With this comment, she indicates a long set of tables along the widest end of the room, and a group of humans seated there.

"Yes, Ma'am, thank each of you for your time and consideration."

We all exchange Athlē-korr following Xi'An convention and I walk to where Janice Amesly and other humans are rising to greet me.

"Ms. Amesly," I nod in acknowledgment when I'm close enough.

She smiles and turns to the raven headed woman beside her, " Ambassador Coso, this is Shawn Ryan, the courier escort I've been telling you about."

"Mr. Ryan," she says, notably serious if not severe in tone and expression... that or she has recently been eating lemon slices.

"Shawn," Janice continues, inexplicably using the familiar to address me, "This is Ambassador Yanna Coso, the UEE Diplomatic Corps' Ambassador to the Xi'An Empire."

I try to match her friendliness, but I suspect a bit of the Ambassador's own tone creeps into mine as I say, "Ambassador Coso, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am."

She nods, but has nothing further to say to me, turning almost immediately to Ms. Amesly as if I had dematerialized.

From my right, a pleasant voice says, "Mr. Ryan, you are to sit down here."

My eyes follow the voice and settle on the lovely Ms. Hirosu as she gestures for me to take the seat beside her. As I comply, my mind floods with too many if-only thoughts and I stumble clumsily.

I dare not look back to see what anyone else thought of my inept movements, but at least I didn't fall flat on my face.

"Not nervous, are you?" she whispers as I sit down, her head close enough that her perfume is intoxicating me.

Fool that I am, I answer, "Right now I'm terribly nervous."

She turns to look at me, her big brown eyes barely twenty centimeters from my old ugly face, "There is nothing to be nervous about, it has all been arranged."

My mind vanishes as I sink into her gaze, eternally drowning in her presence... well, until the moment ends and she turns back to whatever. I feel like a thirteen year old who has just asked the most popular girl in school to the big dance, and been "let down easy." (sigh)

…..

There is a good reason that I'm not a diplomat. Okay, probably a hundred good reasons, but I'm thinking about how BORING enduring this session has become. After the initial pleasantries, I've basically sat and had to listen to a back and forth exchange between the high muckety-mucks that consists of material I could have guessed listening to Spectrum Dispatch dispatches. It's no wonder we aren't getting this crisis solved, these people seem interested in just hearing themselves talk.

Gallen's a spy, no he is not, yes he is, no he's not, blah, blah, blah. It's a wonder we aren't already at war. I just want to shout and ask 'why talk if you aren't going to listen?'... but I bite my tongue, occupying myself with occasionally stealing sidelong glances at Ryoko's delicate face when I think she won't notice.

…..

The session ends and Ryoko smiles my way. "You should remain seated until Ms. Amesly speaks with you." I think she sees me sigh and she adds, "Please do not hope for more from me." Her eyes fall, "You do not hide your interest very well."

I nod and reply, "I'm sorry, Ms. Hirosu. I'm not trying to offend you."

"I know, Mr. Ryan, I know."

As she walks away, I collapse back into my chair, as deflated as a burst balloon.

Janice Amesly finds me like this and says quietly, "Mr. Ryan, I need you to haul a cargo to Rihlah. You will receive instructions once you are back aboard your craft."

"I'm not sure if I can do that, I'm still under contract."

"Oh." She glances across the room to where Diplomat Mgren stands, then looks back down at me, "I think that will be corrected shortly. If not, contact me through the chip."

I nod back and answer, "Yes, Ma'am."

Suddenly, she breaks into a broad smile, "You really have it bad for Ryoko, don't you?"

"That obvious, huh?"

Chuckling, she replies, "Yes, it is."

"I'm just not her type."

"True. But you're not dead either."

I shake my head, "Yeah, but age is supposed to make things like this easier, not more confusing."

"Like I said," she smiles, "You aren't dead."

…..

Athas Mgren gestures to me as I sit alone. Rising, I join her and Ksan Ko'Kree near the chamber where I first met them.

"Shawn Ryan," she begins, "We are unlikely to be able to make use of your services for the time being. Are you able to find suitable employment while it is decided how we wish to address your contract's actual value?"

"I can find things to do, Athas Mgren," I reply, adding, "If that is your wish."

Her head tilts just a hair, I think she is trying to determine if I'm communicating anything by where I placed her name in the sentence. Ksan likewise seems intent on me without any other obvious reason.

"You still have not answered my questions," he grumbles before getting a whithering glare from Diplomat Mgren. "I suppose that they will not matter if you are no longer our contractor." Athas nods briefly in agreement.

"Then you will please excuse me..." I say.

The Diplomat interrupts, "I understand that you raise tea on Terra III."

"Um..." I'm startled by the unexpected change of topic. "Yes, Athas Mgren."

"Shawn Ryan," she says steadily, "Are you not the source of the To'Lay White Jasmine Tea that Sha'Sheek Imperial distributes at Court?"

I nod, "I'm not sure about the To'Lay part, but Sha'Sheek Imperial does buy almost all my white jasmine and I've been told it does go to the Imperial Court."

"Good. I wish to make a gift to the Empress . Shawn Ryan, can you sell me everything you have on hand?"

Ksan Ko'Kree is staring at the Diplomat as if confused.

I respond, "I don't have anything here, Athas Mgren. I think there are a few crates at the plantation, but I would rather not open them. I may, however, have a small amount in the drying room... how much do you need?"

"How many crates?" she asks and the Seer seems all the more nonplussed.

"I don't know, I haven't done much with my business since I took the Imperial contract; my manager has been handling all of that."

"Please find out. I will purchase all crates that you have on hand at market rate plus three percent."

Ksan Ko'Kree's face just lost all obvious emotion... he seems to have withdrawn as if evaluating something private.

Now even I remember that Xi'An convention for a special order negotiation is offer, counter, counter, counter, with both sides giving ground; to take the initial offer is a sign of weakness, to push past two rounds of offer/counter is considered argumentative. But what should I ask for? Hmmm... "Market spot plus seven percent."

"Market spot plus four percent plus handling and shipping charges," she replies.

"Market spot plus five percent plus shipping and handling."

"Done," she smiles for a moment. I nod and still Ksan is a blank, though I have no doubt that we still have his complete attention.

"Shawn Ryan, would you please return to your plantation and determine the volume available for my order?"

Looking at me, Ksan finally speaks, "With your permission, I would like to visit your tea operation."

This is even more unexpected. The Diplomat betrays no emotion at all about his request, simply nodding when I look her way.

"I'm not sure that I can provide him with the proper clearances on short notice," I say, frowning somewhat.

"I can get them," Athas Mgren states calmly.

I look back at the Seer and admit that I'm a bit incredulous as I ask, "Why do you want to see the plantation?"

"Is there a problem?" he asks, hints of that hungry look playing about the edges of his face.

I shrug, "Nope. I can say that there's a pretty good chance that some of the people there have never seen a live Xi'An before."

"They have seen dead ones?" he asks icily.

"No," I chuckle, trying for all the world to change the tone.

"Then why did you specify a 'live Xi'An'?"

"It's an expression."

"You should say what you mean."

"Please excuse my error, Ksan Ko'Kree."

He was obviously not expecting me to quit arguing; he continues, "So you are just trying to make an excuse for not taking me along."

I take a deep breath and try really hard not to let him get to me. "Is your ship ready when Diplomat Mgren has the proper permissions?" I ask.

"You have a three seat craft and you are coming back here once you stow the tea, correct?"

He wants to fly with me?! No, wait, that can't be right... can it? "I'm not following."

His Xi'An grin looks a lot more evil than I hope it is, "I trust an Imperial Contractor to be able to safely fly a craft. I would like to inspect the facilities that produce this product for Imperial consumption. Is there a problem? I would have presumed that you would have nothing to hide..." his voice trails off, laden with too much innuendo.

Neither of us trusts the other, so of course we would want to be trapped in a spacecraft together.

"Shawn Ryan," Athas Mgren says, looking calmly my way, "I believe this would be a good exercise. I will get the appropriate clearances for Ksan Ko'Kree to visit your plantation and," here she looks at Ksan, "Only the tea plantation." She gazes back my way and finishes, "I request you return him here immediately after his tour when you are also bringing my gift for the Empress."

This stinks, but there seems to be something behind her expression. I shrug, "Athas Mgren, I will be honored to do this."

She nods my way and as Ksan Ko'Kree turns to stride away somewhere, her expression changes momentarily to an almost gleeful look of satisfaction. "Thank you for humoring me." She bows and dismisses me with, "Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

I bow in return and respond, "Athas Mgren, athlē-korr."

As the Xi'An Seer boards the Argo, I realize that Ksan Ko'Kree and I haven't really been alone since our meal on Rihlah. As he adjusts the second seat for his physique, I wonder what game he is playing.

There isn't a voice command profile installed, even the default MISC version, and since this 'Lancer isn't mine, I don't think I'll mess with adding Duncan... but I sure miss him right now; the tension in here is thicker than dust in a black nebula.

I'm trying to think about positives... are there any? Hmmm, at least the Seer knows how to strap in.


	28. Chapter 27 – The Adjustment

I contact the Embassy control and we are out into space without delay. Terra III has rotated since I left with the Captain: sunrise is just now painting a towering thunderhead above the Torre Nor with strokes of brilliant vermilion. Looking at the sensor Doppler of the cloud, I decide to mention, "Might get choppy, we are headed almost directly under that cloud."

A glance his way shows that impenetrable Xi'An dino face staring directly ahead at the approaching weather.

"Okay," I remark while considering the best approach. The squall line shows minor rotations, some dramatic wind shear, and occasional significant electrical dicharges, while the back side seems to only have the heavier precipitation... hmmm, very heavy, I think perhaps "deluge" would be the appropriate description. Still, the 'Lancer should do fine in the downpour and I swing us around the towering anvil just as the sunside turns it a roiling but brilliant gold.

…..

Dean seems to consider Ksan with growing suspicion, "Just what exactly are you looking for?" he asks, a distinct edge in his voice.

"Anything amiss with materials for the Emperor's table," Ksan replies, continuing with an acerbic tone that none could misunderstand.

We are looking at four large crates of our white jasmine tea, about a hundred and twenty cargo units worth, that Dean has brought out of cool storage and that Bashir has been helping move towards the cargo ramp into the Argo.

"Won't they check all this stuff several times before it can reach Jiā or wherever?" I ask, trying not to be too cross with the Seer's attitude.

"Yes, of course."

"Then I'm not going to have you damage the product by opening it here" I state. "You are here for the tour, you were offered such and you declined. Diplomat Athas Mgren has already accepted the four crates, the price is agreed, and I am to deliver them immediately. Is there a problem?"

The Seer eyes me with as much distaste as Dnong ever did, but he motions "No" and steps out of the way.

"Load," I say to Bashir and both he and Dean resume the job of getting the containers onto the Argo.

"This is so much cooler than our 'Lancer," Bashir opines as he looks over the heavy armament on the starboard wing.

Dean laughs, "Why don't you go look at it? That or push in a straight line..." His comment dies as the teen runs to the wing to look at the missiles hanging there. "Kids," he observes.

Ksan Ko'Kree watches with what I imagine is disdain as I join Dean in moving the cargo aboard.

"I wish to leave now," he grumbles as I pass.

…..

Bashir seems so interested in the MIS that Ksan's impatience goads me into an idea... maybe not the best idea, but I'll see how it plays. "Bashir?"

"Yes, sir?"

"If your mother approves, would you like to take a quick trip up to the Embassy?"

The teenager's eyes light up and he exclaims, "YES!"

Ksan predictably objects, "This is not appropriate, Shawn Ryan."

"Now you finally desire to pronounce my name, Ksan Ko'Kree? I fear its use is inappropriate now." He glares my way, I've just verbally slapped him and he knows it. I continue, however, "You yourself have made sure that I am not acting on Imperial contract, have you not?"

"That is immaterial."

"No, it isn't. I am simply carrying these crates to Diplomat Athas Mgren as a private contract; the shipping and handling charges are bargained and agreed as part of it, and..." I pause for effect, "You were there."

He freezes; though our eyes are locked, his expression announces that he knows I'm right. I wonder if he suspects that it's Athas Mgren who has out-maneuvered him.

I resume, "SO... I am an independent hauler right now and I decide who is on my crew." To Bashir I say, "Go ask your mother for permission if you still want to go."

His dark mop of hair bouncing, he sprints off to the lift.

Somewhere inside, I feel a pang of loss as Dean calls after him, "Tell Jurdi you have my permission."

I guess it could be worse, Bashir could still hate even speaking with me.

From behind, I faintly hear Ksan Ko'Kree mutter, "An'shan (Humans)," with an evident disgust.

I ignore him, but see Dean tense; "Are all Xi'An so rude?" he asks me... not quite quietly enough.

"What was that, worker?" the Seer snipes, obvious caste superiority dripping from the way he says "worker."

I spin on him and snap, "He is my partner here, but YOU are my guest. Have you forgotten your manners as no Hatched before has when visiting my home?"

The dishonor evident in my question might as well have been an attack, Ksan's eyes flame, "You are questioning ME?!"

"You are in my home. I am serving one greater than you. I have the right to expect better."

"I will not be insulted so by one of your station," he snaps, undue emotion showing.

Surprised by the uncharacteristic outburst, Dean comments, "Gentlemen, peace please. The cargo is stowed, I am done here and you can go."

"I'm waiting for Bashir's answer," I reply, my eyes never leaving those of the Seer.

Ksan turns and strides into the ship.

The lift door opens and Bashir bounds my direction, "I can COME!" he exults.

…..

Jurdi has followed the jubilant Bashir off the lift, and once again, I'm struck with what I've never had: Dean and Jurdi hug affectionately and then, arms around each other, they turn my way.

"Will he need a suit?" Jurdi asks, trust evident in her face.

"Never hurts to be prepared; it is space, after all."

She nods and heads towards one of their storage lockers. Dean and I are now face to face, "You alright with this?" he asks. "I mean it wasn't all that long ago that you two had some issues."

"Nothing like some sightseeing and maybe even a little time at the wheel to help ease things."

"You mean to let him fly that?"

I chuckle, "I'm considering it, if only to get Ksan's goat."

"You really have it in for each other, don't you?"

"He started it."

"You know what that sounds like, don't you?"

I'm a bit bemused by this turn, "No, actually, I don't know."

"You should listen to the kids more often," he gently chides, "They do that all the time."

Now I feel my cheeks warming and an urge to snap back rises... but I also realize he's right. I don't like it, but it does sound like children do when they are passing the blame.

"And I suppose you want me to just go along with whatever he wants."

"Nope." Dean answers. I expect him to say more... but he just stands there smiling.

Jurdi returns at this juncture with a suit, but after a quick pat on Dean's shoulder, she heads directly onto the Argo.

Finally, I ask, "Is that all?"

"He means you ill, you don't have to make it easier for him by being a donkey in return."

"And just what would you suggest?"

"Be nice to him. A wise man once said, 'if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.' I think it is great advice in this case."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Nope. It was appropriate almost three thousand years ago and it's still good advice today."

"I think heaping burning coals on his head is more appropriate than being nice to him."

Dean smiles and shrugs, "Suit yourself."

"Let me get this straight," I say, trying to see what he does... if only for the moment. I try, "Are you saying you think I should be more adult than to sink to his level?"

"Not exactly, but if that helps, go for it."

"I rather dump him out an airlock."

"Would that really help?"

"No," I admit, "But it sure would feel good."

"For how long?"

"You are getting all religious on me, aren't you?"

"Trust me, if Bashir gets going, you will think I'm being easy on you."

I look back at the 'Lancer and wonder if inviting Bashir along was really such a good idea after all. "He going to preach at me?"

"No, not his thing. But he will challenge you if you make your differences of opinion obvious to him."

"Joy."

"Actually, it could be."

I roll my eyes and sigh, "This is not working out like I planned."

"No, guess not. But I bet it works out better in the end."

…..

I pass through the cockpit entrance and move towards the command chair. Bashir is looking around, trying to decide where he will sit while Ksan Ko'Kree sulks stonily in the number two postion.

On impulse, I chose to tweak the Seer again, "You will need to move. I have a copilot this time and he needs hours at the stick."

Both Bashir and Ksan Ko'Kree immediately give me their attention; the former looks elated and the latter... well... lets say that even Bashir must be able to see the hatred in that dino face.

"Besides," I continue to the Xi'An before either can respond, "I know that one such as you would rather not sink to the level of common working flight crew. I'm sure you will be much happier out of the cockpit."

For just a moment his teeth show in a reptilian snarl, then he regains control and the wall descends. "As you wish, pilot," he says emotionlessly, rising from his place and moving quietly back.

Bashir bounds into the vacated seat and begins adjusting it for his own rather slight build. "Thanks, Mr. Ryan," is all he can say, but his grin almost splits his face ear to ear.

"Okay, Bashir, want to help with the checklist?"

"Oh, I know how to start it."

"I'm sure you do, but the checklist is important even when you've been flying as long as I have."

His brows come together in obvious puzzlement, "Why?"

"It builds a rote that helps you not skip important things, especially in an emergency."

"Why?"

"Think of it as muscle memory."

"What's that?"

Hmmm... "You play sports?"

"I tried out for sataball, but I wasn't big enough. I played football in grade school... keeper mostly, just not good enough in the upper levels to keep at it."

"It there anything you like to do?"

"Dance."

"How do you get good at it?"

"Um... I don't know, you just do it."

"So you were good when you first started?"

"Well... no."

"Did you watch someone else to see how to do it?"

"Well... I guess."

"A checklist is like watching a startup expert, you imitate them when you do the checklist."

"Can we just go now?"

"This isn't a basic ship, do you want to fly some on it?"

"Yeah."

"Then we do the checklist."

"You guys doing okay in there?" Dean shouts up the ladder from below the ship.

"Yes! Go away!" I laugh.

Bashir adopts a sheepish look, "Okay, what do I do first?

"Checklist is the first option of the side console glas..."

…..

The Freelancer MIS lifts easily from its place and is out of the hangar into the steady rain with an effortless ease. The surprising fact is that Bashir is the one piloting it; I'm just watching. Well, I'm also trying desperately not to side-seat drive; as long as we aren't going to crash or otherwise hit anything, letting him take it from ground to space is in his hands.

"Don't forget to call New Austin Control," I say, noticing that he had just crossed the line without already doing so.

"Can you do that for me?" he asks.

"Sure." I set the comm and call, "New Austin Control, this is Freelancer Argo E184.17794M, heading for space."

A few moments later, "Argo 794, NAC. We have you on scans, you are clear for orbit ops. Safe flight. NAC out."

"Thanks, NAC. Argo 794 out."

"You do that every time?" Bashir asks.

"Every time you cross the 20 kilometer line you should."

"Oh." Then excitement fills his voice, "This is the first time I've flown above 20,000 meters!"

"Really?"

"Well, flying the ship." His face reddens. "I mean, I've been above 20k a lot," he says, sounding like he thinks he should if he were a bit more experienced.

My mobiglove signals and I pull up the holographic glas. A message flashes: URGENT! X.

"Keep at it until you reach standard orbit," I tell my young copilot. "I need to get this."

"Jix! Thanks!"

The message decrypts and I see first that it's from Xin.

TOG:

Researcher has done analysis of signals to and from Renewal along with pertinent data streams she considers associated with Seer Dnong Ksack's explosive event.

Analysis: G's conclusions that persons on Renewal inadvertently caused the incident thinking they were targeting you were premature. Seer Dnong Ksack CONTACTED Renewal seven (7) hours fourteen (14) minutes BEFORE destruction. Also, Renewal destruct signal was sent only four minutes before the device exploded; actual signal could not have arrived until fifty-seven (57) minutes AFTER detonation. I have been instructed to warn you that current analysis implies that Seer Ksack had an arrangement with someone on the Renewal to stage what would casually appear to have been an attack. Analysis of available material indicates close to a 75 percent chance Seer Ksack committed suicide, but it also allows for a greater than 25 percent chance that Seer Ksack was not even on the craft when it detonated. More analysis when we have it. X

My gut heaves and for some ridiculous reason Bashir notices my response. "I didn't do anything!" he complains defensively.

"It's not you, Bashir," I respond in what I hope is a patient tone. "You're doing fine, I just got some disturbing news."

"Oh, okay," he replies, seeming to settle back down.

I look over my shoulder and Ksan Ko'Kree's eyes meet mine. I wonder if he knows... or if he has a part in it all. He sure seems to have stepped easily into the role of supreme jackass that Dnong played so well. The wall is still there and it occurs to me that he was all alone aboard the Argo for ten minutes or more... I look back down at my systems and surreptitiously begin a system wide diagnostic.

…..

"Do you know what the L2 point is?" I ask my copilot.

Bashir looks confused, then admits, "No."

"Lagrange points are orbital locations that..."

He interrupts, "Oh, yeah I know what those are."

"Well, L2 is the second Lagrange point."

"Oh."

"That is where we are going."

"What's there?"

"The Xi'An Embassy."

"Oh," he says. After a pause, he asks, "Where are we now?"

"Do you know how to pull up the system map?"

"Of course, I... um..." he falls silent looking over the complex console, then asks, "Would you show me?"

"Sure, gladly."

…..

"I should probably take it now, Bashir," I say as the tumbling shapes of the Xi'An orbital Embassy become clearly visible.

"Yes, sir," Bashir replies, sounding somewhat disappointed.

"You've done well, Bashir, but right now isn't the time to get your first space landing."

"I understand," he says and I really hope he does.

"Xi'An Embassy Control," I call, "UEE Freelancer Argo, E184.17794M lined up for approach."

"Argo 794, Embassy Control, please state your mission."

"Returning Seer Ksan Ko'Kree and delivering a shipment of tea at Diplomat Athas Mgren's request."

"Argo 794, Please hold your position."

"Yes, sir."

"What?" Ksan asks somewhat incredulously.

"They told me to hold. I'm just..."

"Give me that comm," he orders, pushing past Bashir to reach his console. I don't exactly follow the Xi'An that spews from him, but the tone is unmistakably authoritative.

Oddly enough, a female Xi'An replies with even more authority in her tone and a stunned Ksan Ko'Kree stumbles backwards.

There is activity around the Embassy and suddenly four Banshee launch... heading directly for us.

"Helmets!" I order, grabbing mine from it's bag.

"Where?" Bashir wails and I realize I overlooked that. We exchange a glance and then it occurs to me that I have another. Reaching to my left, I grab the combat helm Captain Priest gave me and toss it to Bashir.

"Lock that one onto the collar, left tab, right tab, seal button on the back of the neck!"

He swings it over his head and it looks like he has it sealed.

"Power the shields!"

"Where?!"

"Right console! Left string of icons!"

"Got it!"

Our shields blink on as I try to determine if we are in trouble or not.

"Argo 794," the Embassy calls, "We require you to power down your shields and stand by to be boarded."

"This is Shawn Ryan. Is Diplomat Athas Mgren there?"

"You will power down your shields and stand by to be boarded. Is that clear?"

The Banshees are in pyramid formation about us. I need to protect Bashir. I reach out and touch the shield allocation icons on my hud glas... shutting them down.

…..

"Shields DOWN!" Bashir screams in what must be horror, staring into his HUD.

"I shut them down," I reply quietly.

"Why?!" His voice flailing with panic.

"We can't fight them." I state as calmly as I can. "I'll cooperate completely with whatever they order if it means you get to go home safe."

"What?! Why?"

"Because it's my fault you are here. I didn't anticipate any problems, but it seems I was terribly wrong."

The comms crackle, "Argo 794, remain in position. Do not power scans, shields, or weapons. Docking in twenty seconds."

I can't see the ship they are moving to the airlock, but I unbuckle my restraints and motion to Bashir to do the same. Ksan Ko'Kree sullenly stares at me, his arms folded across his chest.

CHNNNK! The Xi'An craft bumps against us. The docking ring's latches engage and sound starts coming from the airlock as atmospheres normalize between us.

A large number of Xi'An security personnel swarm through the hatch, moving quickly to fill the aft section of the craft.

One naval officer steps forward from the squad, "You are Shawn Ryan?" he asks, looking me in the eye.

"Yes, sir." I bow and continue, "Please see my copilot, Bashir Abboud and Seer Ksan Ko'Kree."

"You are seen. Hold your positions." Abruptly, he turns to the Seer. I can only barely make out the words they exchange, but after an increasingly animated argument, the officer finishes with what I think is a question; what I can catch is: "... nogh taahg'naachk ma an'shan?" If I remember Kree'Gna's lessons, that would be something like "... humans see your humiliation?"

I unexpectedly realize that the Seer is livid about something, but he says nothing.

The officer turns to me and starts, "We need to take..."

"Kath! (Stop!)" Ksan Ko'Kree commands and the officer turns back to him. The Seer bows and I hear him admit, "Ith asas (I erred)."

The officer returns the bow and says clearly, "Ith lakshore (Follow me)." Without another word, he turns and marches off the Argo, followed by Ksan Ko'Kree and the Xi'An contingent. Well... almost all of them, one security officer remains. By its size I would guess it is a female, but for the moment it seems that something in our cargo hold is of great interest.

I glance over at Bashir, but aside from a confused look he seems to now be taking this all in stride.

"May I help you?" I ask the Xi'An's back.

Tsssshhhhk. Whhsshhh. The airlock door is closed and I hear air bleeding out.

I'm rather concerned and suggest to our remaining guest, "Your ship is..."

"Peace, Shawn Ryan. You must wait." It is indeed a female voice that interrupts me, but it's one I don't recognize.

I admit, "I don't understand."

"You will wait, then I will explain in part."

I feel rather than hear the Xi'An ship's lateral thrusters move it away from us.

"Turn this ship towards the Baker jump and move us away from the Embassy."

"I really must insist."

"Athas Mgren sends her greetings. You will do as ordered in the name of Emperor Kray."

I glance at Bashir: he seems tautly balanced between fear and excitement.

"As you wish," I say, sitting back into my chair and bringing the ship around as ordered. "Bashir, please take your seat."

"Yes, sir," he answers far more agreeably than I actually think the situation warrants.

I bump the throttles up and we move away from the Embassy.

…..

"You have done well, Shawn Ryan," our guest says from not far behind me.

I glance back over my shoulder and note that the officer has moved to the seat behind Bashir.

She continues, "I am Mai Ee'shu, Special Assistant to Attle Heehth. I have been tasked with helping you move."

"May I ask what is going on?" I ask while again looking forward.

Her question surprises me, "May I ask if your copilot is safe?"

"I vouch for his character," I say, hoping I don't wind up eating those words.

"But is he safe to speak in front of?"

I look over at Basir and wonder. Finally, I comment, "He isn't a spy or Advocacy, if that is your meaning."

"You are avoiding my question, Shawn Ryan."

"Yes, Mai Ee'shu, I believe he is safe to speak in front of."

She nods, "You are going to take the Diplomat's gift to Rihlah."

"Um..." I remember Janice Amesly's insistence that I would be free to take a mission she was about to present.

Bashir pipes up, "Can I go to Rihlah, too?" There is real eagerness in his question.

I glance his way just as Mai Ee'shu asks, "Are you not the copilot?"

He catches my eye and I nod. "Yes..." he starts.

I interrupt, "He is a new copilot, eldest nestling of a very good friend. It is his first flight offworld as crew. I had not expected this turn of events, and I do not have his mother's permission to take him out of system."

"You can not go back now or contact anyone about this. He must come along or all the effort to conceal this action will have been in vain."

"Why? What is..."

"It must not be known that I am on board until after we have landed on Xi. We can not go back now."

I'm trying to object, "But..."

"Please?" Bashir interjects, clearly begging.

"Your mother will kill me," is all that comes to mind.

"No she won't, I know her better than you do. Please?"

I set the controls to autopilot and turn to the Xi'An, "What happened to Ksan Ko'Kree?"

"That is a Xi'An internal affair."

I realize that Mai is Imperial Nestline but that her caste glyph isn't Civil Service or Navy. "You are not a Diplomat."

"No," she smiles. "You are familiar with the Guidance of Klaahk?"

"A very little. Kree'Gna has tried to educate me about your history and culture, and I've really tried to learn... but these days I'm afraid I've forgotten more than I remember."

"Still, I am impressed," she says with her version of a large smile. "Our caste is a very unique one: Special Advisors to the Emperor. Though I am firstborn of our father's seventh nesting, I have earned the position of Special Assistant to High Council Advisor Attle Heehth, so I have this caste now."

Though I'm starting to guess the answer, I ask anyway, "Your father is?"

"His Imperial Majesty, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray."

I'm strapped in, so bowing is not an option, but still I nod and respectfully intone, "Shē'sueren, Mai Ee'shu. Mahhragna ith ilxag. (Hello and Greetings with Peace, Mai Ee'shu. I am too humble for such honor.)"

"Shē'sueren, Shawn Ryan," she replies, looking over at Bashir, obviously expecting him to greet her likewise. He has in fact turned around to watch this exchange, but now looks like he's cornered by a test he's not prepared for.

I interpose, "Please forgive my failure, Mai Ee'shu, I have not taught Bashir any Xi'An yet, please allow him to greet you in the manner in which he is most comfortable."

She glances my way and then looks back at Bashir.

"Please go ahead and say hello," I instruct, "Try to be careful to pronounce her name correctly." He looks over at me and I carefully say, "'Mai Ee'shu' is her name. Names are VERY important when speaking with any of the Hatched, I'll explain that later."

"Okay, so 'My Eshoo'?"

"Hmmm, almost. 'Mai' does sound a lot like 'my' as in 'my hat'... but with just a bit more 'ah'. So it is 'm... ah... y'.

"Mai?"

"Correct," the Xi'An answers before me, obviously interested in the process.

He blushes and says, "Thanks. So is it 'Mai Eshoo'?"

"Not quite, Ee'shu is really two parts separated by a slight aspiration." His expression tells me he doesn't understand, so I continue, "'Ee' is like the sound in 'feet' but with a little more emphasis on the sound, so it is longer."

Mai joins the lesson, clearly pronouncing, "Ee" so Bashir can hear the emphasis.

"'Ee'?" he asks, obviously with growing interest.

"You got it," I reply.

"'Eeshoo'?"

"After the 'Ee' is what school teachers call a 'half aspiration'; think of the sound you make at the start of the word 'have'."

"'h'?"

"Exactly. Now, you are only going to make the first half of that sound, so it's ' ."

"Ee'shoo?"

"You are almost there," Mai says with a smile.

Bashir is blushing again, but he looks back at me expectantly.

"The 'sh' you have spot on. The 'u' is indeed the same sound in 'shoot' but only about half as long. Not quite a long 'u', but still..."

"Okay, let me try it: 'Mai Ee'shu'?"

"Very good!" I exclaim and Bashir beams. "I'll teach you 'Shē'sueren' next time."

"Good, my head is about to explode."

The Xi'an laughs and Bashir suddenly looks confused again.

"That is how Xi'An laugh or chuckle," I explain. "Nothing to worry about."

"Shawn Ryan is correct," the Adviser says.

Sheepishly, Bashir says, "Okay."

"So," I conclude, "Now it is your turn to say hello to Mai Ee'shu."

"Hello, Mai Ee'shu."

"Shē'sueren, Bashir Abboud."

"You know my name?" he asks abruptly.

"Shawn Ryan pronounced it when he told our security officer who you were. I have simply repeated what Shawn Ryan said."

"Wow! Good memory!" he exclaims.

She chuckles again and I have to do so myself.

"What else do I need to learn?" Bashir asks as if he could finish in an hour.

I turn back to the console and say, "For right now, you need to get the feel for your position."

"So... are we going to Rihlah?"

"Sure looks like it."

"JIX!"

…..

"But I've already done that drill SEVEN times!" Bashir gripes.

"And just what was your score?"

"Well..." he sounds sheepish.

I've had him trying several simple combat drills, the same ones I myself have been figuring I should do. Bashir, however, seems to be having trouble with even the most basic targeting.

"You lost, didn't you?" I ask, as patiently as I think possible.

"Well..."

"Did you get to the pirate ambush level?"

"No. When do I get to ambush pirates?"

Hmmm, maybe I should have him practice sensors or flying instead. I skip back on the training menu top... darn, one too many... well, maybe not. I'm on the copilot's seat top level combat menu and there is a select option for equipment. I look over at the teen and see that he has his helmet off. I drop into the option and see a selection option for "tDCS enable". I tic it on and a new submenu appears: Weapons, Flight, Sensors, Global."

"Bashir, please put your helmet on."

"Do I have to?" he whines.

"Yes, you have to or I'll leave you are the Covalex hub."

"Yeah, right."

"The main Covalex station for this half of the empire is in Baker, the first system we will jump into. Derek abu Faruq is the second in command, he has four boys just older than you, he doesn't put up with any crap, and he owes me several favors. Keeping an eye on you would fulfill at least one of those."

"You wouldn't dare," Bashir retorts, but his tone reflects that he is far less than certain of this.

"You gonna learn how to fight in case we need the copilot to do just that?"

"Why do I need the helmet?"

Why am I putting up with him at all? "Because I say so," falls from my mouth. Wait... Oh... My... Goodness. I just heard my father speak from my mouth.

Bashir doesn't accept that any more than I used to. "And?" he irritatedly retorts.

"You can do what I say or I can have abu Faruq teach you to respect authority while I go on to Rihlah."

"Ohhhkkaaaayyy," the youth exhales a depressed sigh that veritably screams out that he is SO being PUT UPON, figuring the misery of doing this needs to be obvious to all. However, the helmet slips on and while he latches it into place I select the "tDCS: Weapons" option. Fairly quickly, I am to the training menu, selecting the basic combat training sequence, then the continuing difficulty option.

"Ready?" I ask"

"Yeah," he sighs.

I select "Start" and see Bashir's hands begin to move.

…..

The jump from Terra to Baker is crowded, as usual. There are a couple of Merchantmen queued up ahead of us, along with their escort.

My comms light up, "Freelancer Argo, this is Banu Merchantman Obijanq. Our team makes contracts for flying cover through to Rihlah in Xi'An space. You are not Navy, yes? You like good contract, yes? You join team, make safe together, yes?"

I look back at Mai, "Well, if I'm just supposed to be flying to Rihlah to deliver cargo, then it would make sense that I would want to join a convoy."

She nods, "It is certainly not what I would do if I were traveling openly... so this action does bolster your cover."

"Obijanq, this is Argo. Please transmit your terms for me to consider."

They do. They aren't paying much, and I try to remember my Banu dickering skills... unfortunately, there is a good reason that I don't work with the Banu very much: I have no real bargaining skill.

I at least take my time thinking about it, then, "Obijanq, this is the Argo. I'm afraid that this wouldn't even cover my ammunition if missiles were needed to defend you. I can not accept a contract I can not afford."

They were expecting a counter; immediately, they respond, "We can increase the contract 29% or we agree to cover cost of needed munitions over the current contract offer should combat be engaged."

I know that I should haggle until I'm making something better than a measly 15k Imperials, but I rather just be done with it. "No stops until we reach Rihlah?"

"No stops," the Obijanq's speaker confirms. "We have deliveries for Xi'An only."

"Well..."

"You are most difficult, team has commenced jumps. Thirty seconds left."

"Okay, I agree to the original terms plus repayment for any missiles fired in combat defending the group, ourselves included."

"Agreed."

"You have hired yourself a missile boat for support. Argo awaiting jump order."

"Argo, Obijanq is next. Then Sargass. Then Argo, Argo is last." Sargass looks to be an old HogBack gunship.

"Agro is last," I agree. "Argo out."

"Obijanq out."

"Bashir," I say, but he doesn't respond. I look over and he is moving fluidly through some scenario. "Bashir!"

He replies loudly, as if shouting over something, "Yeah?! What?!"

I find the menu and stop his sim. "Can you hear me now?"

"Yeah," he whines, "Why did you stop me, I almost got wave thirty-one of the Vanduul horde."

"You got where?"

"Wave thirty-one... three one."

"Well... look at you."

"You should have set it on easy the first time."

I look down and he was into the "advanced" training tier; not expert or master, but not basic or novice anymore either.

"You started out the same as before, but you've been improving to where you are probably pretty decent right now."

"Really? That was quick."

"Yeah, I'm impressed. Four hours to get into the advanced tier is pretty good..."

"Four hours? No way! Twenty minutes, maybe a half hour."

"We're about to jump into Baker already."

He pulls the helmet off and as he stares disbelievingly out the front windows, his mouth drops open.

"I..." he starts, but the words just die on his lips.

In front of us, the Sargass disappears into the jump.

"Strap in," I order and he complies without even a whimper.

Looking back at our passenger, I see that she has adjusted her seat, with the standard web straps crisscrossing her outfit. She also seems to be studying the glas holo displaying in front of her.

"Anything of interest, Mai Ee'shu?"

"They are flying heavy for average trade."

"Say again?" I ask as the jump drive emitter comes online and the wormhole begins to appear.

"Sensor logs indicate that there were three Merchantmen, three Avengers, one each Redeemer and HogBack, and three Bulldogs before we joined."

"You're sure?" Her glare and frown are enough rebuke and I immediately apologize, "Please forgive me, Mai Ee'shu, I misspoke."

"Forgiveness granted, but I expect you will not repeat the error. You should know that during my service term I held the post of sensor officer on several of our larger ships."

I push the throttle up as I grovel, "I again offer my sincerest apologies and ask your forgiveness."

She nods, "Again granted." Without pause, she continues, "They are still traveling heavy. Only the Merchantmen had non-combat cargo."

"Pretty good strategy to keep the wolves at bay."

"Unless the cargo is very valuable."

I shrug, "What is done is done."

Bashir asks, perhaps a little hesitantly, "Are we going to get into a fight?"

"I sure hope not," I say as I enter the jump lane and we sail into interspace.


	29. Chapter 28 – Traverse

It's been a long time since I flew interspace in a 'Lancer. Whether it's the fair amount of Xi'An tech or something in MISC's choice of materials, 'Lancers have a unique song while traversing a jump lane. I'm not sure exactly what it reminds me of, but of the unexpected ones there is the sound of a distant banshee wail and on another there are nearby ringings like vigorously shaken hand bells. The lights are of course spectacular, vibrant waves of brilliant energy splashing on the shields as if we were riding in a kaleidoscopic waterfall.

"WOW!" Bashir comments from his seat. I glance his way and he is completely mesmerized. I'm afraid I've ruined being planet bound for him, probably for the rest of his life.

The navicomp shows our progress and much too soon, we are dropping into the binary starred Baker system. We move out of the exit and form up behind the Obijanq.

The general comms crackle, "Argo, this is Sargass. I take it you don't have the our encryption yet."

"Nope, was just about to ask for it."

"Obijanq has the codes and colors."

"Copy."

"We'll get back with you. Sargass out."

"Argo to Obijanq."

"Obijanq copies Argo."

"Yes, sir," I suddenly hope the individual I'm speaking with is male. Oh well; "We need convoy comm sequence."

"Understand, Argo. We transmit codes and colors now."

From behind me, Mai says, "We have received the encryption codes, a color sequence to regulate it, and time sync for the color changes. May I set it up?"

"By all means, please do."

She drags from the holo in front of her to a comms glas to her right. "Comm 2 is encrypted to match the convoy."

As she states this, we are suddenly treated to chatter from the rest of the ships.

I switch the key to comm 2 and key up, "Argo to Obijanq, do you copy?"

"You are come through good, Argo."

"Thank you, Obijanq. Argo out."

"Sargass to Argo. You want on top or on bottom?"

I think about it for a moment, then, "Argo back to Sargass, we'll take bottom. I'll go belly up, wing down from Obijanq if that works for you.

"Yeah, that's real. Just don't pop any of my Avengers, okay?"

"Yeah, got'em. Who is calling for this end?"

"NoqTauk has combat command if we need it, Obijanq is the actual convoy control ship unless we are fighting. If no one else calls targets, I'll tell you what I'm shooting at."

"Copy. Thanks."

"What're you using on that missile boat?"

I look through my weapons acks and reply, "EM and IR mostly, plus a surprise or two for the really pesky types."

He laughs, "Sounds good. Hope we don't need to test them today."

"You and me both."

"Sargass out."

"Argo out."

"That was utterly boring," Bashir mopes.

I look over at the teen and out of the corner of my eye realize that Mai Ee'shu is shaking her head, albeit so slightly that someone not used to Xi'An might miss it.

"It's all part of the dance we do out here to stay alive," I offer, hoping he doesn't make an argument of it.

He doesn't; instead, he announces, "I'm hungry, what's there to eat?"

"We kinda got out before I could stock the pantry, I'm not entirely sure."

"What?" he whines... man, that attitude is going to get old quickly.

I try to respond evenly, "Usually be some FD stuff in a box back by the galley. Maybe some Torreele or something similar back by the pantry itself."

"Eewww. I hate freeze-dried. And what's a Torreele?"

It is at this moment that the Obijanq calls, "All ships clear to engage quantum, estimated time to next jump eleven hours seventeen stamin."

All the other ships reply and I do so last, "Copy, Argo engaging." My words are still micro echos in the ship when I push my throttle up. I also rolling us us, inverting so that we are now upside down to the rest of the convoy, all the while while holding our position a hundred meters behind and a hundred "down" from the Obijanq. Two hundred meters beneath our belly now is the Sargass as it holds the mirror of our position from the big Banu Merchantman.

We approach real speed as the quantum drive functions lock in... and we hurtle forward into the void.

"So what's a Torreele?" Bashir asks again.

"Vacuum packed food. Kinda like they crossed the flavor of cardboard with mushed up carrots and other overcooked, slightly past ripe vegetables. Generally best hot, because if it burns your tongue, then your tastebuds can't tell you just how bad it is."

"GROSS!" he all but screams... yet he also unbuckles and heads back to find whatever we might have.

I turn and smile at Mai as she works through a scan pattern.

"Ha!" Bashir exclaims triumphantly, "I found the milk!" It is only moments, however, before I hear him gag and probably spit a mouthful all over the galley.

"You mess it, you clean it," I call back.

"It was... like... cottage cheese!" he gasps, continuing to gag and retch.

"Told you it wasn't something we put on."

Mai climbs forward into the copilot's seat and says calmly, "He is going to be sick; you should go back and help him, Shawn Ryan. I'll hold our position and call you if needed."

I nod, climb out of my place, and am almost to Bashir when he vomits all kinds of things all over the floor.

…..

I finally climb back into my seat after far more experience that I ever cared to have of both a teenager in a foul mood and a fouled ship reeking of said teenager's abdominal issues. It amazes me that he just opened a milk container and chugged from it so much rank curdled bovine lactation, but I guess it's been a while since I was a teen... I certainly don't remember drinking from a strange container without smelling it first.

But now, Bashir is in his bunk, medicated part way into oblivion, Mai Ee'shu has just stepped back to the head, and there is a moment or two of silence.

I really miss the view of the stars that I get in a smaller craft. All I have here is the window band, it so robs me of the joy of the Great Banner that I realize that I'm rather depressed.

The silence doesn't last long. Chatter over the convoy's comms starts from what I presume are the front units and passes back quickly. It looks like we have dropped in a few hours before the start of one of the Able Baker Challenges, and our "nonstop" appears to be in question.

"Obijanq calls all craft in group. We have many asking us to monitor Able Baker Challenge for gambling purposes. We decide to stop for fuel at Xenia platform to allow interested creatures to observe and wager. We are glad to offer direct booking with competitive odds once we ascertain participants and details."

Several of the responses are elated, I'm only less so since I can restock the fridge and larder while we are on Xenia, the massive Covalex space station and distribution hub. It won't hurt to have the fuel topped off either.

"You will stop for provisions?" Mai seems to be on the same page.

"Yes, Mai Ee'shu. Since I'm taking Bashir along, I should at least provide for him."

"He is military age, is he not?"

"Not quite our military age."

Her expression becomes rather distant, "Hatched are sent to military service at fifteen shaē (Xi'An years; roughly 400 days), perhaps humans should learn from this. Klaahk teaches that immaturity prevails when a nestling does not learn the responsibility and sacrifice of service before they are too old."

I'm about to remind her that Klaahk is also reputed to have taught that Hatched species are superior to all others, or mention the ways that the castes Klaahk helped codify deny most Xi'An even the simplest choices in life... but something in the back of my mind tells me I'm here for a reason bigger than my own and I decide to bite my tongue.

I do think she expected me to reply, but she now resumes, "We have sufficient fuel, rations, and water. We should continue."

"I took the contract to fly with the Banu to Rihlah."

"You did," she acknowledges, though I can't tell from her tone if she now thinks I did poorly.

I finish, "I keep my word."

I believe there is irritation in her expression, but she has closed her face quite a bit and I'm not sure what reasons lay behind. What she does say seems rather incongruous with her tone of voice, "You are the ship's captain. Your decision is final."

…..

Bashir and Mai remain on the Argo, but I quickly find my way to the Xenia's communications center. While I feel a little self conscious about it, I don my flight helmet and activate the glove connection through Ms. Amesly's chip.

The message is simple, "I've been rerouted to Rihlah with Athas Mgren's cargo, feeling a lot like an indigent. Can't give details, but I seem unlikely to be available to run your mission. Please advise if I should proceed. Also, please contact Jurdi Abboud at my plantation and let her know Bashir is safe and will be with me for a few days. Thanks. Ryan out."

…..

I've taken on enough supplies for at least two weeks, including a couple gallons of horribly overpriced milk for Bashir. I also picked up a case of the most popular entrees from MaShē Imperial, the Xi'An's slightly higher end version of Torreele. Judging from her size, Mai Ee'shu can easily eat through a case in that time, if not, well... maybe there is a Xi'An equivalent of a food bank in Rihlah.

I've also picked up two sidearms, a Preacher 3P (officially the Preacher Peacemaker Personal Penetrator) for me, and the Joker 57 Stunzer to give Bashir something if he needs it.

The hovercart with our supplies is awaiting me as I stride to the Argo's back ramp. Bashir eyes me groggily and, as I suspected, Mai is out of sight. I walk up to the lad and offer him one of my favorite treats, a small bag of pecans imported from some province called "Georgia" on Earth... let's forget for the moment that I dropped a small fortune on them.

He looks down at the gift and announces, "I don't like pecans. Got some chocolate?"

I so want to slap the boy, but somehow, what comes out is, "Yeah, I have some Hersico blocks in there somewhere."

"Where?"

"You can find it as we unpack."

"You don't have a list of where things are?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well?"

"I think I already said that you can find it as we unpack."

His eyes roll like they are marbles in a shoot. Turning, he strides angrily away while exhaling this disgusted sound, "Sheesh!"

If I were one to believe there was someone to ask for strength, now would be the time. I might even start believing if I could get real help dealing with this kid without wanting to space him every five minutes or so. How could Jurdi have had a son like this?

…..

Boredom is my bane, made all the more difficult to survive with a sullen teenager's rants about how things should be. I really don't know what I was thinking when I invited Bashir to come up to the Embassy, but whatever it was was a serious mistake. We've been sitting on our pad, not wanting to leave Xenia until the Merchantmen are done with the gambling they are trying to capitalize on. At least here, if Jurdi's son pushes my buttons too much, I can walk to the diner.

My bunk is softer than the one on the 350, but in space I much prefer to sleep grav off so softness is normally irrelevant. Again I try to close my eyes, and again, Bashir's whining from the galley dispensers seems to hit all the frequencies guaranteed to raise my blood pressure and chase sleep from my vicinity.

"I want real food, not this stuff. I want to go home. Why did you make me come along on this?" The only thing he hasn't said is "I hate you," but I'm sure it isn't very far away.

Under my breath, I mutter, "Bite me."

"Shawn! Where's the chocolate?"

His disrespect is really getting hard to take. I wonder if I could really get Derek abu Faruq to imprison... er... take care of Bashir while I run into Xi'An space.

"SHAWN! Where did you put the rest of the CHOCOLATE?!"

Again, I whisper to myself, "Somewhere safe."

It seems that Mai Ee'shu has reached some threshold, "YOU! NESTLING! SILENCE! NOW!"

Bashir doesn't know when to quit, "You're not my boss, I'm not..."

The Xi'An physically interrupts him, having crossed the space between her perch forward and his position with the speed and grace of a trained hunter pouncing on hapless prey. I feign sleep and listen as he gasps in terror.

Her tone is even, but I imagine she is so close to him that her great size alone is enough to make him fear her words: "Shawn Ryan has granted you much and yet you disrespect him. That is his problem. I am eldest of the seventh nesting of Emperor Kray and I am a guest on your ship. I WILL be treated with the respect my station grants me. Is that clear?"

There is silence, I hope Bashir is nodding or otherwise not allowing any thought of argument to rise. Unfortunately, he seems to have the wrong kind of courage right now, "You don't..."

Something like a growl escapes the Imperial and with an uncharacteristic snarl she commands, "YOU. WILL. BE. SILENT. Do you understand me?"

This time he must respond correctly. However, there can be no pretense that I'm still asleep; I roll out of my bunk and just loudly enough ask, "Is there a problem here?"

The big Xi'An female turns towards me, "Establish discipline on this ship or I will."

I speak evenly, but there is a clear edge as I use her name out of order, "Mai Ee'shu, I believe we are forcing you to endure too much. I shall return this ship to the Terra III Embassy and save you the misery you are enduring."

She looks at me like food and the wall rises. Her words, however, show how far from under control she really is, "You pretend to sleep and let me deal with this creature: you are nameless coward." The insult is a capital one for the Hatched and she knows that I know.

"Bashir," I say past her, "Take your seat, and start the power up checklist."

"Where are..."

"Do it NOW," I order and he shoves past me heading towards the cockpit.

The Xi'An is easily twenty centimeters taller than I am, but eye contact doesn't fail as I address her, "You may choose a jumpseat or take a bunk. Your insulting behavior will not be tolerated on my bridge. Have I made myself clear?"

"Quite," she says icily with something of a hiss.

I turn and stalk to the captain's chair.

"Bashir, helmet on, please."

He looks my way, but decides not to argue or even huff; the helmet slides on and I see him lock it. I pull mine from the shoulder bag and as it comes over my ears I hear, "Captain?" from the Adviser.

Turning, I see the emotionless face of a Xi'An with a great wall erected. Her words reflect something different, "You are an Imperial Contractor. Does that mean anything to you?"

I try to keep an even tone, "It means that I've been tortured, had friends murdered, and in spite of trying to do the right thing by my best friend, the now dead 'nameless' Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna, I have been called dirt by one of the Imperial Nestline. If this is how Klaahk taught the highest of the Hatched act, then the highest of the Hatched have disrespected my service and voided the contract. I don't have to serve any of you anymore."

I see surprise for a moment that I know enough to make this argument. From behind the wall she says emotionlessly, "You have made a fair case. Will you disrespect Athas Mgren's desire that you deliver the tea to Rihlah?"

I decide to continue stabbing at her soft spot, "I have not confirmed with Athas Mgren that she even wants me to take the tea to Rihlah. She has only ever behaved with courtesy dealing with me, I have to wonder if there is not some mistake in this situation."

"I told you she wants to have..."

I interrupt, completing the insult, "Mai Ee'shu, I have only your word that she wants this."

Her eyes redden, her breath shallows... she is close to rage. "I have not been called a liar by any honest Xi'An."

Letting my own anger rise enough to flush my own face and make my hands tremble just a little, I coldly respond, "Well, now your behavior forces an honest human to recognize the possibility."

Sometimes fate intervenes when we are set to do something... take now, for instance: my comms blink, signaling that I have an incoming encrypted message.

Great, who is this from? I try the main but nothing seems to want to decode it... I wonder... I try dragging it to my mobiglove and it does seem able to decode it but it refuses to. What the heck? Oh... I had stopped putting my helmet on when I was fighting with Mai Ee'shu, maybe that's what I need. I slip it on, lock it into place, and try the decode function again; this time, the decryption works and Janice Amesly's face comes up for my personal viewing.

"Mr. Ryan, You are on the mission we meant you to take. For security reasons, mainly that Ksan Ko'Kree was to be going with you down to the plantation, we did not give you this information in advance. Special Assistant Mai Ee'shu was selected as your liaison, please treat her with the utmost courtesy."

That's just great, I don't even think groveling would help now.

Ms. Amesly isn't done, she continues, "You will find a chip holder attached to the underside of the pilot's comm panel, just below the main manual frequency control. This chip has a message recorded by Imperator Costigan. At your earliest convenience, take that chip and secure it on your person, preferably NOT in your mobi until you are asked to deliver the message. It will not work without my decoding chip, but if things go unexpectedly, you may need to have NOT seen the message."

I'm feeling under the control as she says these things and I do indeed find the chip case; I'm not going to move it with an angry Xi'An probably still standing over my shoulder, but I guess I should move it soon.

Janice concludes, "I will notify Ms. Abboud of Bashir's status once you are clear of UEE territory. Finally, please be careful. You may have compromised yourself and anyone on the Argo by sending your message, though the Xenia comm stamp may help a little if you move quickly."

As if on cue, our group comms blare, "Obijanq calls to our group, winnings are distributed appropriately, our congratulations to winners. We prepare to return to previous route. We depart Xenia in 20 stamin."

I glance at the comm glas and back towards Mai Ee'shu, my eyes resting a moment in passing on the confused face of my young copilot.

The Xi'An's face is completely locked down, we are at enmity. She is waiting, saying nothing. I may be angry, but I've got no choice; not only does the Imperator want me to go on, but I also gave the Banu my word... and they tend to remember when a human fails to complete a contract commitment.

The comms fill with chatter as each of the other ships calls their acknowledgments. I turn and face the controls.

"Obijanq to Argo, are you aware of departure broadcast?"

I guess we're the only one that hasn't responded yet. Keying up, I reply, "Argo to Obijanq, yes, we are making preparations to depart and will be in space within five stamin. We will assume our position as agreed."

…..

The tension aboard is thick enough that it could be cut up and sold as a plutonium replacement, the mood as depressing as being pinned under a crashed ship stranded on an out-of-the-way asteroid with no view even of the stars.

Mai Ee'shu has indeed taken to a bunk and seems strapped in but there are none of the sounds Xi'An normally make as they sleep. Once again, my temper has made a bad situation worse, and I have to wonder what I could have done better. Well, aside from deliberately insulting one of the Emperor's daughters; I think that would have qualified for stupid in anyone's book... I was REALLY not thinking that one through, now was I?

I've had Bashir working on the combat sim most of the time since we left Xenia, but for the last hour or so he's had a pretty nasty headache and I've let him just sit and watch the time go by. Judging by his expression, he is as uncomfortable as I am.

I close up my helmet and make a direct link, "Bashir, can you hear me?"

His head doesn't move, but he answers quietly, "Yes, sir."

"Close your face-shield please, I want to talk with you privately."

His hand reaches up and he does as asked.

"Thank you," I say. "Look, I just want to say that I'm really sorry I dragged you along on this. I didn't mean to subject you to all the trouble I've put you through."

His head finally turns my way and he answers, "You mean you aren't mad?"

"About what?"

"Me."

I chuckle just a little as I reply, "Bashir, you're out of your element. I'm the one who hasn't set a very good example."

"She was trying to piss you off."

"Yes, but in life that happens a lot. I was wrong to let her inspire so much anger in me. Very wrong."

"You going to tell her that?"

"Probably."

Plaintively, he says, "I didn't mean to throw up the milk. I..."

"Don't sweat it. I guess I've forgotten what it was like to be your age."

"You're old, aren't you?"

Ouch. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"It's not your fault that you forget, old people do that all the time."

Okay, now he's goading me... I think. "You aren't helping."

"Oh." Just a hint of the more typical tone enters as he mumbles, "Sorry."

"Look, Bashir, when we get back from this, I'll try to make it up to you."

Now he sounds interested, "How?"

I think for a moment. "Maybe I'll teach you to fly my 315p."

"Really?! Jix!"

"Yeah," I say, hoping I'm not making another mistake.

His voice bubbles with enthusiasm, "COOL!"

…..

The jump is before us. On the other side is potentially contested space. The group's Redeemer and Bulldogs are all lined up to hit the jump point at eight second intervals with the same momentum, the gunship leading. The Merchantmen are staggered with the Avengers, then finally the Sargass and our Argo go through last.

A UEE Naval patrol sits five klicks out, monitoring the jump and the trade lane leading to it. The four fighters seem content to stay closer to their Pegasus than anything else, but I bet they are watching for inbound traffic... they are probably our first responders if we go to war with the Xi'An.

The Redeemer disappears. Eight heartbeats later, so does the first Bulldog. Is there anything to worry about? The second LR fighter crosses into the jape. They will all arrive before the first Avenger here leads the first Merchantman through. The final Bulldog is gone.

We wait. Transit time on this jump is four minutes. If all is well, the Redeemer will ping the comm relay and that signal will be the unlock for the rest of the convoy to proceed. In the interim, I turn us around to allow us full coverage of any threat that might approach from the rear.

"Bashir, please scan wide for incoming traffic."

"How do I do that?"

"Hmmm, well, let me do the scans and you keep yourself ready in case I need you to do any shooting."

In a voice that is far less sure of himself than normal, the teen asks, "Do you think we will have to shoot at anyone?"

The comms interrupt, "Obijanq to group, we are clear to proceed."

I turn us back around and answer the lad, "I hope not, Bashir." Taking a deep breath as I see the lead Avenger light her fires and plunge into interspace, I repeat myself as much to certain my unease as his, "I certainly hope not."

…..

The jumplane counter from the navi-computer is down to thirty seconds. I seem ill at ease, there's nothing that feels right about the miserable howling this craft makes and I can't see enough of the interspace light show to overcome the sense that I'm missing something grand.

10 Seconds.

My hands tighten on the control surfaces.

Deep breath.

Two.

One.

Whooosh! We flood out of the anomaly as if our speed had never changed. The group is starting to sort itself out. The trade route through the system to the next jump sinks below the ecliptic to bypass an asteroid ring, and the group is orienting for an underpass to keep our strongest sensors facing that threat.

The voice of the Obijanq calls out on the group sequence, "All ships clear to engage quantum, estimated time to next jump sixteen hours and four stamin."

Quickly, the first ships start accelerating; everything it looks clear as far as out sensors can...

My sensor aft has a fast moving blip, I touch the glas and it expands... a Torpedo!

"Obijanq! Torpedo Aft!" I call, taking us off the plane of attack while turning to find our attacker. My mind does something and before I consciously recognize it, I've got Bashir's helmet control up: I set tDCS to "On" and weapons to "Live Fire".

Above me, Sargass is also turning, trying to find a target.

"Bashir, shoot that torpedo!" I command. He doesn't question me... and suddenly there are streams of power draining from the engines and ribbons of particles slicing through the void. I reroute power to weapons and shields, then glance the teen's way. He isn't at all unsettled, it's like he knows what to do when I sure wouldn't.

One of our barrage of streaks intersects the speeding torpedo! The explosion is large and satisfying, but it was too close and the momentum of the shrapnel carries large chunks of it into the Obijanq's shields and trough to impact the ship itself. Madly I scan for targets, moving us within an unpredictable sphere to avoid being an easy mark.

The comms go hot, "Obijanq to Group! Under Attack! Help Us!" A quick glance at our aft sensor shows that we have the three avengers and two of the Merchantmen, the others may take minutes to turn around and engage.

"Bashir, our targets must be stealthed, radar locks won't hold. Don't fire missiles unless you can paint it all the way in."

"Yes, sir," he says with enough disappointment to make me doubt I should have said anything.

From behind me, an unexpected voice says, "You have four moderate targets and a corvette or frigate behind them." It's Mai Ee'shu at the sensor console, intently focused on ferreting out the enemy. "Painting your targets now."

"Excellent work, please patch them through to the group."

"Already done, Captain." There is ice in her tone, but right now we are warrior allies and I won't complain.

"Out of my range," Bashir calmly states.

"Another torpedo," the Xi'An says, marking it on her console so we see it a moment later, "Here."

"Got it," Bashir replies.

"Use a missile this time, okay?"

"Sure."

I watch as a miniature of his hud view zooms in on the incoming device's signature, see the indicators show the lock and hear him state, "Missile away."

From our starboard, the streak of missile exhaust lances away into the dark. We continue to move and for a long count of five nothing happens, then another flash lights the night as our harpoon devastates theirs.

"Obijanq is very happy with our contract with Argo!" the comms squeal.

"Good shooting, Bashir."

"Thanks." His voice changes and I hear an honest question, "Why don't they come closer?"

Before I can speak, our Xi'An guest responds, "They were expecting to easily cripple the Obijanq, your skill killing their weapons was unexpected. There is a 71% probability that they did not have a second plan and are only now deciding how to proceed in the new situation."

Our sensors show that the second Merchantman has now moved to bring it's weapons to bear and that the remaining five ships are almost back to assist.

"Well?" Bashir asks quietly.

"I don't..." I start.

Mai Ee'shu cuts me off, "They are breaking off."

"That was easy," Bashir opines.

"They sure didn't expect that kind of shooting... and to be honest, neither did I."

"It was like that sim, only easier."

"Well, I did have the training stuff turned on."

"What training stuff?"

"That helmet has a tDCS system for combat training. I'd say it worked pretty..."

"NO!" Bashir shouts. "I'm not a oxy-capper!" Oxy-cappers are the stereotypical tDCS freaks; not only do they spend long hours under training "caps" but they breathe pure oxygen while doing so.

"Well, you didn't have the oxy part, but that helmet sure is a cap, I've tried it out myself."

"No!" he almost cries.

"You just did what I couldn't have, and did it well. The system works."

"I wanted it to be skill and skill alone."

"No one else did that, Bashir."

"It's not the same," he moans, almost in despair.

I look back at the blank face of our Xi'An companion and decide I should at least try. The wording will have to be cumbersome, but I rise, face her, and bow, "Mai Ee'shu, I formally apologize for responding badly to your provocation against my authority. I accept that our relationship is scarred and will allow you the proper grievance before your superiors. In the mean time, you have served this ship very well and I thank you for that service."

She exhibits no expression change, answering as if from stone, "Your apology is noted. Grievance will be filed. My service is to the Emperor and not this ship." She has not used my name; so be it.

I nod, replying, "Recognized and understood." I turn and resume the controls... I also have not used her name nor given any further orders.

"Obijanq records one missile fired by Argo. Replacement payment will be added to contract." They go on for a minute or two in Banglish addressing others in the group, but it's nothing of real value or interest to us.

Bashir rises out of his funk. "They're just adding the cost of a missile?!" he grouses. "I oughtta get a bonus."

I just chuckle and shake my head.

Finally, however, they get back to business and order the group forward but in a triangle formation instead of the old convoy organization. A Connie MAX and her escorts jump in right behind us and before I've finished scanning them, Obijanq hails them, offers them work, and adds them to the formation. Oddly, we are no longer the caboose, we have the center-point of the triangle, though a bit below the plane. We are reserves and I'm rather glad to know it, since Bashir now refuses to put his helmet on.

"You either need to put that on or trade with me," I say quietly as we run to frame max and engage the quantum overdrive. He stares out the window as we blaze along at .2c, then without looking hands the helmet across the space between us.

"You sure?" I ask and the look as he glances my way is pure unadulterated disdain. I take it from him, unlock my own, and pass it back. I decide to give him an option for avoid my sweat, "There's an alcohol wipe in my bag if you need it."

He pulls a t-shirt from his bag and wipes out the inside with that, then hoists it over his head. As the combat helmet comes down over my ears, I note that my glove flickers, showing the change in helmets. The latch is almost an after thought.

…..

We've had no more excitement since we fought off the unknown assailants after our jump from Baker. We're now in the interspace the leads to Rihlah.

Bashir look rested, I finally got him to bunk down and he slept almost nine hours without a sound. He seems to spend most of his time studying something on his mobi, only occasionally looking out at the jump lane's firehose of light and movement.

Mai Ee'shu is as impenetrable as possible, having said nothing since her comment about serving the Emperor. It is also clearly not worth her time to make even eye contact. I'm not sure exactly how this is going to impact our mission, but I suspect I won't like it.

The lane ends abruptly and I move us out of the way for the big Merchantman following to have space to maneuver.

Obijanq hails us, "Argo is to power shields down and insure weapons are offline. Group is holding five yaag..." someone interrupts off mic and the voice corrects, "five kilometers out from exit. Xi'An arrival patrol is scan all ships once entire group arrives."

I key up, "Argo copies," and follow the other arrivals to stand for inspection.

…..

A thick Xi'An accent calls, "Argo, identify cargo and target."

"A tea shipment from Athas Mgren, my orders are to take it to Rihlah for transshipment to Emperor Kray's..."

Mia Ee'shu breaks her silence; interrupting with fluent Xi'An, she converses with the inspection patrol. I might catch one word in ten, but that is far too little to even guess what they are talking about. Our sensors light up as the powerful scanner sweeps our hull. More fast fluid Xi'An and I simply give up on trying to follow it.

Finally, the voice on the comms calls, "Argo captain, Shawn Ryan, you are to proceed with your ship to the customs house, Xi, Corilla and await further individual inspection."

That's odd, but I don't argue; I would have thought we would drop onto Shorvu with the rest of our group to unload. Once again, I glance back at Mai Ee'shu but her expression is still that emotionless steel mask.

…..

Xi, the massive fifth planet in Rihlah, is overlaid with so much habitation that to refer to any one center as a megalopolis would be to diminish it. Our approach is from the dark side, but it glitters with enough lights to make half of Earth perpetually lit. Still, there are dark areas and as the sunrise speeds across its horizon, we see those dark areas turn verdant green.

Bashir is finally interested, "Where is that?"

"Rihlah V, it's called 'Xi'. We're..."

"Can I go exploring?" he asks excitedly.

"Humans may not venture outside of Corilla, and you are both restricted to the customs house," Mai Ee'shu intones, showing hardly more interest than the average waiterbot.

"I'll need to get some fuel," I comment, "Before I turn back for Terra."

What she is thinking doesn't escape her face and I return my focus to the approach vectors the Xi'An are sending me.

…..

"Mr. Ryan?" Bashir looks confused, maybe alarmed.

"What's up?"

"I feel funny, like I'm getting sick or something."

"Gravity is much greater here, Bashir, so you'll feel heavier. Do you feel sluggish?"

"Yeah, that must be it," he says.

We are getting lower and lower, skimming a jagged mountain range, then dropping into a growing hole in a dense jungle rainforest... that gap grows to reveal the smallish settlement of Corilla.


	30. Chapter 29 – Shattered Glas

Compared to the mega cities that lay a scant two hundred kilometers away, Corilla is a backwoods hamlet. We are verbally guided into the customs facility, and land without trouble. Well, Bashir is a little disgruntled that I won't let him pilot in, but something just feels wrong about this whole affair and I don't want a momentary lapse on his part to put us into some situation I can't get us out of.

The pad we are directed to is a mobile... it sits on a conveyor-like apparatus that will move the pad into a hangar structure designed for horizontally oriented craft. I set us gently onto the decking and immediately feel the motion as we slide into the cavernous structure. An armed military unit stands at attention, probably a courtesy for Mai Ee'shu.

I open the ramp, putting the tea in obvious position for inspection. Standing with my documents glas properly loaded with manifests and sales "papers", I await the inspector and customs officials. My teen copilot strolls up, but quickly seems to sense the this is important.

"Bashir," I say, "It's good to get to know the most common glyphs. See the one on their collars that looks like three bars stacked on top of each other?"

"Uh huh," he exhales.

"That's the civil service glyph. They are very proud of civil service here, it's not like the UEE government employees at all."

"I thought they had an Emperor."

"They do, plus some very rigid castes. Civil service is special, though. You aren't born into it, you have to pass very difficult and rigorous exams to get in."

The Customs Lead, a dino no less, looks to be ancient at best; his leathery skin is pocked and folded, the green in his face and hands is fading to a dusky gray. But he still strides up and politely demands, "Yay Shok! (Papers, Please!)"

I comply and he considers the manifest and the containers of tea.

"What's a caste?" Bashir asks quietly.

"They have organized society based on what job you are trained to do, what family you are born into, whether you are on active duty in the military, and/or if you can qualify for either civil service or the Seers. I think there is probably more to it than that, but the Xi'An are very private and I haven't tried to find out what they don't offer to tell me.

"Is Ms. Ee'shu in a caste?" he asks.

"Yes, the highest caste is the Emperor's NestLine... kinda his immediate family plus some level of close relatives... I really don't know all the details. Anyway, Mai Ee'shu is from the Emperor's NestLine."

"Which glyph is that?"

"It was the middle one, the one that looked solid."

"Like a rectangle with a bump under it?"

I allow myself a chuckle and softly reply, "Yes, that is simplified version of something called the Zagg'R... um..." I turn the parts of the term over in my head a few times before it clicks into recognition, "Ah, yes, the Zagg'Radch." His eyebrows rise just as a crate is opened beyond us. "It's supposed to be something Emperor Kray wears, but I don't really know much about it, it isn't like they have pictures of him laying around anywhere I've been."

"So that's how you knew Ms. Ee'shu was from his family?"

"Yup."

I notice that Mai Ee'shu is out in the hangar talking with the Inspector, a naval officer, and what I think is a Seer. I hope she's arranging for someone to...

CRASH!

I look over to see the old Customs Lead laying on the floor of the cargo bay, a crate of tea on top of him.

Bashir and I are at his side in three strides and we both lift the crate up and clear.

"Mai Ee'shu!" I holler, "This Hatched is hurt! We need medical help!"

We both bend down to see the old lizard in somewhat obvious distress... though I'm not sure where he is hurt.

Footsteps pound up and we are quickly brushed back.

A pair of civil service types loosen his collar and speak with him, but I can't hear what they say.

Four Naval service personnel run up with a suspensor cart of some sort, lift him onto it, and hustle the graying Xi'An away.

Two very large Naval guards step up to us, along with Mai Ee'shu and the Naval officer.

"You will come with us," the officer orders.

"Is something wrong?"

The two big guards step behind Bashir and I as he answers, "You are under arrest for the attempted murder of Customs Lead Ton Leena."

"What?! You've got... to be... kidding," I stammer in shock.

"No! We didn't do anything but help him!" Bashir exclaims, almost at the same moment.

Mai Ee'shu smiles and I think I see evil behind her expression.

To her I say quietly, "If you are trying to get back at me, at least let Bashir go, he didn't insult you and he isn't my kin."

The naval officer, I'm not really sure of his rank, growls and I realize that not only is he not depending on Mai Ee'shu for anything, but he is insulted that I'm attributing authority over the situation to her.

Before he can speak, I offer, "Please forgive my failure to understand the gravity of your rank in this concern. I am not sufficiently familiar with the Xi'An system and fear that our system's approach to these kinds of matters has confused my behavior."

"I know who you are and how well you understand us, Shawn Ryan."

The statement is surprising, though now I have to wonder just exactly what is happening here.

Again, the officer orders, "You will come with us."

Bashir looks helplessly at me and I gesture to follow. The teenager's expressions betray confusion, anger, and not a little fear of what is to come... but he obeys and follows as the Xi'An leads us across the compound to a small holding area.

We leave palm prints, our retinas are scanned, and we are led to what seems to be an almost comfortable cell. But imprisoned we are, no matter how much better off we are than we might have been in a Roussimoff Rehabilitation Systems cell block.

"What did we do?" Bashir asks when we are finally left alone in the small bright room.

"I don't know, Bashir, I really don't know. I am sorry you got dragged into this."

He looks around, then back at me with an odd expression, "I'm not."

"Hows that?"

"I'm kinda scared, but I'm glad you let me come. I got to fly in space, and jump between systems, and see new planets, and shoot down two torpedoes, and meet real live Xi'An."

"You're okay with all that?"

He looks my way and then quietly admits, "You're treating me more like an adult than anybody I know... even Dean. Even after I made a smelly mess of your ship."

I smile appraisingly and nod, "You'll make a fine man some day soon if you keep that kind of attitude."

"They have to know we didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm sure they do. I just don't understand what is happening."

"Yeah, it sure seems weird, why didn't they take your gun or my stunner?"

I look down and my pistol is obvious on my belt, it would seem like something they ought to have taken away. Bashir's weapon is also in plain sight on his belt, it's not like we're trying to hide them.

…..

Dinner comes, little trays of unidentifiable warmed Torreele offerings with mugs of watered down glee'ha to help us swallow.

"What's this?" Bashir asks, holding up the ruby-colored drink.

"Smells like glee'ha, kinda like a spiced wine, but a little salty." Bashir takes a sip, then several gulps go down. "Take it easy," I chuckle.

"I was thirsty."

"Yeah, the salt doesn't help either. But you still need to eat your whatever and that is best to wash it down."

"It says 'Spicy Beef' on the box."

"Well, let me know if that's what it tastes like. Most Torreele tastes about the same without enough hot sauce."

He stabs a bite with the flimsy poly fork, eats it and chews for a while.

"And?" I ask.

"Kinda reminds me of what paper tastes like. I used to eat pages from my father's old books when I was little. Mom got angry about it when she caught me, but I still remember the taste."

"Not exactly 'beef' then is it?"

"No, not really very close at all."

…..

The lights are always on, but my mobi tells me that it's the middle of the night our time. I'm stretched out on the floor trying to sleep while Bashir lays on the one bed making sounds vaguely like quiet snoring.

The door crashes open and four big female guards step into the room. They pair up and two heave me to my feet while the others haul Bashir out of bed.

"Where are we going?" I ask, but if they understand English, they are doing an exceptional job pretending not to.

…..

One long corridor leads into another. In my weariness, I've lost track of how far we have come... though the long halls remind me of another time in this system. Are we going to see the Outer Ring again?

…..

Turns and turns and still more turns. In my sleep limited brain I no longer have even sense of the time passing. Bashir, too, seems asleep on his feet; his weariness and drooping eyelids are at least keeping fear at bay.

We cross into a cavernous room where several hover craft float, powerplants humming, fans creating odd breezes at our ankles. One car, an unpretentious gray hover with one of its doors already open, seems to be our destination. There are two armed and hooded Xi'An already inside... correction, there is another at the wheel.

"Sit," orders one of the hooded ones and we don't argue.

I note that these are not Naval personnel, but their hoods seem designed to hide their glyphs... "May I ask wh..."

"No."

"Can I..."

With a thick accent, she orders, "Be silent."

The craft's door closes almost silently and we are swiftly moving into a tunnel. Light dims until all we can see are equipment and incidental lights inside. We are in a hurry somewhere, but there is only one approved place for humans on Xi... and we are speeding away from it.

…..

I can't imagine how far we've come, we must have already been in here an hour at least. With nothing but dark walls only briefly lit, I can't judge our speed and I feel like opening my mobi isn't the best idea. Bashir, in the mean time is slumped against me, snoring peacefully away. For just a moment, I wonder what it might have been like to be a da myself... to have my own son crashed against my arm; I find a hidden sense of loss... of meaninglessness and emptiness.

Heck with that. "I though humans aren't allowed..."

"You are disorderly," heavy accent interjects disapprovingly.

"What is..."

"KATH An'shan! (Human, STOP!)" the second guard abruptly orders and I think I see a glint of anger from under her hood.

The loud command has awakened Bashir, though he is obviously still pretty much out of it.

He looks my way and I try to reassure him, "Rest, Bashir. I'll wake you when we get there."

He nods, leans against the far wall, and fades quickly off to sleep.

I envy him.

The two across from us maintain their vigil and I resume my boredom.

…..

We exit from the tunnel into a sunken passage that strangely has no roof. Above us, organic towers of green and brown regularly stab at the heavens. Rihlah's sunlight reflects boldly off a billion glints of crystal or glass. I have seen images of their habitats before, but nothing to prepare me for the sight of rows of them from twenty meters down in a trench.

A blur passes and I look about. The trench has widened to a thoroughfare and there are many hovers moving swiftly along. I wave at a Xi'An pilot in one of the fast moving craft, but there's no recognition or response.

"You can not be seen," the English speaking Xi'An says.

"Oh, thanks. Where are we?"

"Xi."

"I guessed that."

The grumpier of our guards stirs and I don't press the issue when neither responds.

"Bashir, wake up."

"I don' wanna go ta school, mom."

"Do I look like your mom?"

He bestirs himself and sheepishly answers, "No, not really."

"Look at those," I say, pointing at the skyscrapers above us.

"Oh, Wow! Are we still in Corilla? I don't rem..." his voice dies as he reads my face. "Well, where are we?"

"No clue other than still on Xi."

Confusion evident, he asks, "But I thought you said..."

I interrupt gently, "I did."

"Oh." His eyes widen as he realizes we are in traffic with hundreds or maybe even thousands of Xi'An moving along this speedway.

Hmmm, I call it traffic, but even though we are all packed in together, it seems that we move with a speed and smoothness that no human ground traffic could ever match. Craft somehow indicate they need to move in front of us and our pilot slows enough for them to move; likewise for us, a hole opens beside us at one point and without a moment's loss of momentum, we are one lane (for lack of a better word) closer to the side of the artery. I note that it happens again, and then one more time; now we are speeding along next to a wall itself... no... I guess we are taking a side branch and slowing markedly.

I begin to notice a proliferation of alien symbols... these aren't the stylized collar glyphs of caste and kin; rather, the characters are obviously communicating information, often on flowing electrical displays that seem to move with us, as if to be read by our vehicle's occupants alone. Here, my failure to even try to learn written Xi'An becomes much more than a lost opportunity, it is a burden of greater weight than the crushing gravity.

"Are we there yet?" Bashir asks as we enter another tunnel and I secretly have to admit to wondering the same thing.

…..

This time, we arrive before my eyes even adjust to the tunnel's darkness. The chamber is large and quite crowded. There are no humans here, and the Xi'An all seem busy. They are wearing somber blue and red uniforms, but I don't recognize anything but the Civil Service glyph.

The other point of interest is that most of these individuals are HUGE. I can't imagine them being aboard a starship smaller than a carrier because unless our hovercar's windows are distorting the scene somehow, these creatures must be close to four meters (about 13 feet) tall and weigh at least 500 kilograms (over 1100 pounds). Actually, I do note one more thing: they are all heavily armed.

Everyone turns to face our vehicle as the doors open; they are suddenly still, the only sound is the hum of our hoverdrive.

Our Xi'An only officer orders, "Ith lakshore," as she exits the craft.

I look at Bashir and translate, "That's 'Follow me'." He nods and we comply. Our English speaking companion follows us silently.

We walk to a counter that is either obviously meant for taller creatures or intended to disorient us... yeah, both could even be true.

Both of our guards converse with the counter's occupant, another massive Hatched with a lot of reddish markings around the beak and eyes. As with the others, the only glyph I know is the Civil Service glyph, though I note that it is repeated beyond the job-caste glyph (ie., the CS glyphs bookend the job caste glyph)... I think that means this individual came from a noname family, but I could be wrong.

Finally, our English speaking guard says, "You will be secured here."

"Secured?"

Now it is her turn to be confused, "Secured..." she struggles to find the word she needs, "Proper..." she grunts, clearly out of her vocabulary, "Safety."

I think I know what she means, but I rather she come up with it... so I shrug with an equally confused look... an expression she does recognize.

"You are secured here... safe to the Hatched... not improper..."

"Imprisoned?"

She smiles widely, "Yes, imprisoned!"

Bashir's eyes grow large but I try to find the edges, "Do you mean to take our weapons?"

"No, if you use on Hatched, Nagdach will... demolish you."

"Nagdach?"

She gestures at the many Xi'An, then pantomimes tall and thick. I gesture around the room at the Hatched present. "Nagdach?" I ask and she nods. She then repeats herself while making a breaking motion, "Nagdach will demolish you."

"So I can use my weapon on...?"

"Human only."

I look around, but not seeing people, I decide to let things play out.

…..

The room we are ushered into is an even white, the corners are hard to see in the equally even light that comes from the whole ceiling. There is a low couch; I point, "Get some rest."

"No."

"What was that?"

"You've been up longer. I'll keep watch."

This rather adult attitude is unexpected, but I find the surprise quite pleasant. "What do you do if a Xi'An comes in and tries to take you away?"

"I make sure I'm close enough to wake you before they can get into the room."

"And if they put a human in?"

"Um... say hello?"

"You can do that, but make sure you have one hand on your stunner and the other waking me up."

"Why?" he asks innocently.

"Because many of the humans they might have here will have come from Corilla, and not everyone in Corilla is a nice person."

"Criminals?"

"Yup."

"Would I have to shoot them?"

"Only if you think one of us is in trouble," I allow.

"Okay," Bashir says seriously, "You sleep, I've got this."

My weariness threatens to knock me to the floor anyway, I might as well try to keep any watchers from knowing that I'm that far gone: I lay down on the couch, pull my gloves off, and lay them over my eyes. Near at hand, I can hear Bashir sit down on the floor; I'm satisfied, he is smart enough to choose to stay within easy reach.

…..

"Company," Bashir's voice announces and I'm immediately awake, adrenaline automatically dumped into my veins.

At our door stands a more normal Xi'An. He is dressed in black, Naval glyphs at the collar, four deep. Let me see... that's rank first, I'm pretty sure he is equal to our Captain. Second isn't the Imperial Nest-Line, so the next one should be the one for role and/or assignment. To have a third without being Imperial family, he must be in a special unit, though I have no clue which, and that would mean the fourth is a medal or award. All that is to say this is a serious individual.

In plain lightly accented English he begins, "I am Tsee Allath, Commander of the defense forces here. You are both to be questioned. Do you understand?"

"Bashir is innocent of anything."

"And you are admitting to guilt?"

"Yup, I didn't properly recycle my used fingernails."

He smiles, but it is really a rather grim look. "You are hoping to make jokes. I do not like jokes.

I shrug, "The boy is my responsibility. I will take care of him."

He smiles in a frigid sort of way, "You will obey or you will be food."

I don't generally take kindly to threats, my reply follows the norm, "Excuse me?"

Rather than answer, he does something with his version of a mobi and the blank white wall to our left turns into a display. Eight... no, nine uniformed Nagdach, possibly the same ones we saw on the way in, surround what appears to be a live pig. The animal is dwarfed by any one of the tall Xi'An, but together there is the impression of a rabbit surrounded by somal. The only sounds are those of the pig contentedly munching on something.

What happens next is a horror best not described, at least not in detail. The nine huge creatures literally rip the pig apart and consume it. One moment it was alive, now there is blood everywhere and the sound of crunching bones. The final detail seems to sum up the whole: once the carcass is completely gone, they each proceed to groom themselves by licking the blood off their hands and garments until each looks clean except where their tongues can't reach... then they clean each other of what was missed. The final result looks exactly like they did before they started.

I look back at Tsee Allath and see that same grim smile. "Would you like to see them with a defiant prisoner?"

"No," I gasp, then, regaining some composure, I repeat, "No. That is enough."

"The boy is first," he says without any sign of hesitation.

I look at Bashir, his skin is almost the color of chalk. Not since Major McMurdoe had him has he looked so terrified.

"I'll cooperate," I state.

"He will be questioned first anyway."

"He is just a friend's child, this is his first mission into space."

"He should have chosen better."

I look over at the boy and try to remember how I felt that day when I first walked into the RRS compound's gate. Probably about the same, I guess; I knew I shouldn't have been there, but that the fact didn't matter.

"Stick to the truth," I say quietly, hoping that's enough.

"Yes, sir," he answers as he rises and walks, perhaps a little shakily, to the doorway the Xi'An is holding open.

The door closes and I'm alone.

…..

The mental image of the Nagdach killing a creature in such a brutal way has left the impression I'm sure it's meant to create: helplessness and hopelessness. I have a 10.5mm pistol, but that is meaningless against that kind of brutal pack animal behavior. A laser might have been better, but not by much. I hope Bashir does well, but my memory of the Seers' grilling me, probably on this very planet, leaves me fearing for the child's life.

The door opens and a rough looking human is shoved in by one of the Nagdach. He takes a moment to reorient himself, my right hand finds my pistol. He seems to have a weapon as well and is suddenly drawing it. I clear mine first and don't find any hesitation... yet the sound of it's discharge is strangely dampened. The victim falls to the floor, a laser clattering away towards where I sit, his arm at the shoulder shattered by my bullet.

He glares at me, no remorse, no appeal... the door opens again and two Nagdach step in. They ignore me completely, instead focusing on the other prisoner; one drags him away and the other... my stomach churns as I realize she is grooming off the blood... human blood... that she has gotten onto her humongous hands. She looks briefly my way, no expression evident, then walks out the door and closes it behind her.

The abandoned laser pistol looks like it has seem better days, marred and scratched to the point that I'm not even sure of the manufacturer. Nevertheless, I shuffle over to it and find a place for it in my belt.

Hardly have I returned to my couch when the door opens and Tsee Allath appears. He crosses to where I sit, holding a small box.

"Do you recognize these?" He asks, expecting a quick answer.

From the open door I hear a distant voice call out in terror, "No! NO! HELP M...," interrupted by a chilling scream that would freeze molten lava.

"The guards are having lunch," he observes, my attention obviously focused down the hall. "You will continue to cooperate, correct?"

"Yes. Please go easy on the child. He is not military age yet."

"You indulge your nestlings with too many extra years. It is no wonder your kind are corrupt."

I let the jab slide. "What answers can I give you?"

"The right ones."

"As long as they are true."

"What is truth? Do you An'shan even glimpse truth?"

"Honest, accurate, factual."

Back to the grim reality, he repeats his earlier question, "Do you recognize these?"

I look through the box, several things from the 'Lancer; it is half full of various odds and ends from the cargo space, including the shattered remains of the manifest glas I had given to the Customs Lead.

"Most of this is from the Argo. This," I raise the broken manifest device, "Was the manifest I gave your Customs Lead."

"Ah, yes. The shattered glas. Why were you trying to kill him?"

"I wasn't."

"Your copilot, then?"

"We didn't want to kill anyone. We want to go back home, this whole thing has been one change in plans forced on us after another."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I tell the truth."

"I have only your word," he says "word" as if it I were unfit to be trusted with such a topic.

"Ask your Seers." I sigh. "Ask Toth Anddag of the Outer Ring."

"You had a Seer arrested, why should they believe you?"

"I did not. It was part of some scheme of yours."

"I was not there, you lie."

"'Yours' meaning 'your kind', the Xi'An... the Hatched."

"You expect me to believe that you knew nothing of it?"

"You have my ship, what do the logs tell you?"

"They are encrypted."

"What?!" That can't be right.

"Give me the codes and I will find out."

"Take me to the ship and I'll show you that there are no codes."

"Do you call another of our kind a liar?"

A chill runs down my spine, I feel the icy touch of Mai Ee'shu and can only hope that her enmity is less than her sense of... well... duty.

"I detect no deceit, I only believe you have been misinformed."

"You have nothing to hide behind, you are wholly within our Empire. Your diplomatic corps wisely leaves miscreants like you to our own justice. Only the Emperor could save you now and you are not fool enough to appeal to him after how you treated his daughter."

A thought strikes me. "Is it not a Xi'An crime to disrespect let alone challenge a Captain on his ship?"

"Of course. Discipline is discipline."

"Even if the clearly insubordinate Hatched is of the Imperial Nest-Line?"

He is watching me closely, "What are you implying?"

"If my logs are now locked, someone doesn't want you to see what happened before my angry outburst."

"You admit you expressed inappropriate anger?"

"Yes, as Captain, I have the right to address insubordination according to my customs, especially in UEE space, do I not?"

"I will consider this," he answers. Spinning quickly, he heads out the door.

…..

Another human is unceremoniously tossed into the room. This one isn't aggressive, though... if anything he looks scared seeing my hand move to my weapon.

"No! Ungun'd! (I'm unarmed!)" he exclaims in the slang of junkies, criminals and pirates.

"Sit over there," I order, motioning to the far corner by the door.

He holds up his hands in the universal sigh of surrender or cooperation and does exactly as I've told him. He does look curious, "You sound... you speak legal?"

"I'm a Citizen, if that's what you mean."

"Good English. Okay. Don't shoot, okay?"

"Okay."

We study each other, I suspect he wonders about me as much as I wonder about him.

He breaks the ice, "How long you been here?"

"About a day. You?"

"Oh. A few months maybe. Hard to keep track. What are you in for?"

"Framed for attempted murder. You?"

His eyes shift away as if he is looking for an answer. Eventually, they come back to mine, "They called me a spy."

My eyebrows rise, "I'm Shawn Ryan... and you are?"

He seems to want to think about this before answering.

"Suit yourself," I comment, appearing to settle back into my waiting position.

"No, Don't stop!" he whimpers. "I need someone to talk with. I'm Jenk. Jenk Gallen."

Jenk Gallen. The nexus of a galactic uproar. Maybe a spy and maybe not. I can't imagine this is a coincidence; after all, Dnong was sure I knew about Gallen back when he first had him arrested.

"Did they tell you why they put you in here?"

"If they did, I don't understand. I still don't do slink."

"These walls have ears, you might not want to insult them."

"Yeah, well, these wauglash deserve whatever insults I can give them. They don't understand, though. Not the big ones anyway. They seem a few thrusters short of a full ship, if you know what I mean."

"You're big news back home."

He frowns briefly, then replies, "Yeah, I bet."

"Are you a spy?"

"You just said the walls have ears, right? How do I know you aren't working with them?"

"Touche," I admit.

"What's that?"

"Touche?" I have to think about the answer for a few moments, then, "A mispronounced word from French, I think; it means something like 'you've got a good point'."

"Oh. So are you working for them?"

"No, but I'm in no position to prove it."

The door opens and Bashir is tossed in, looking none the worse for wear. He stumbles my direction, then notices Mr. Gallen. "Hello," he says, but Jenk seems unsure of the situation and just nods. Bashir shrugs and moves swiftly to my side.

"You doing okay?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah, they just asked a lot of questions. I answered the ones I knew and said I didn't know to the rest." He seems to notice some of the splatters near the door and realizes that the red means blood. "What happened here?"

"They tossed in someone who meant me harm, I shot him."

Bashir looks stunned, "You killed someone just like that?"

"No, I shot his shoulder out and some of the Nagdach hauled him out. Then they threw this poor fellow in."

"Oh." Bashir's curiosity gets the better of him and he asks, "Who is he?"

"That would be Jenk Gallen."

He waves halfheartedly, then looks back at me, "They didn't seem to care about much of anything since we got to this planet, just stuff about home and the trip before we jumped in. They seemed pretty serious about the Xi'An we brought with us, but I just told the truth, even about throwing up in the galley."

"You did well, Bashir. I'm proud of you."

The door opens and Tsee Allath steps inside. Looking from Jenk to myself and back, he asks, "Where do you two know each other from?"

"Never met him 'till now," Gallen says.

I add, "I know him by name only until today."

"Where did you hear his name?"

"Dnong Ksack asked me if I knew it once at a meeting of the Outer Ring. Since then," I think for a few moments, "I'm not sure if I heard it in the interim, but I certainly heard it when Dnong told me about Mr. Gallen getting arrested. Then of course, his name is big news all over in the UEE."

"Does he work with you?"

"Nope. Your rank is Captain, isn't it?"

"You are sure?" he presses, ignoring my question.

"Absolutely certain, Captain."

He gestures for Jenk to move out the door. The latter rises obediently and complies with the obvious order. Through the open doorway I see him being followed by two Nagdach.

"I say you are both guilty."

"Of what?"

"Attempted murder and disrespecting the Imperial Nest-Line."

"Do I get a lawyer?"

"If it is decided so."

"No other options?"

"You have nothing to hide behind, you are wholly within our Empire. Your diplomatic corps wisely leaves miscreants like you to our own justice. Only the Emperor could save you now and you are not fool enough to appeal to him after how you treated his daughter."

I would swear that he has recently said exactly this or at least something very close.

Bashir perks up, "You mean like Paul getting to appeal to Caesar?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask the excited teen.

"Paul the Apostle was a Roman citizen convicted wrongly of inciting trouble. But he appealed to Caesar and went to Rome to talk to the Emperor directly."

"What happened then?"

"Well, he lost his head eventually."

"Great." But then the thought strikes: maybe this is how I am to get the Imperator's message to Emperor Kray. I may suffer for it, but maybe I can get Bashir free in my appeal.

I rise to my feet, face the Captain and decide to try the most formal polite approach I know: "Tsee Allath, Shē'sueren. I'm still an Imperial Contractor, am I not?"

He seems taken aback by my politeness. His eyes narrow and I think I see a hint of fear or maybe uncertainty. "Yes, our records confirm that."

"Then I do appeal to His Imperial Majesty, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray."

"Shawn Ryan," he pronounces my name for the first time, "You have appealed to Emperor Kray, to the Emperor you shall go."


	31. Chapter 30 – Jiā

Bashir and I are seated across from three Xi'An in a smallish conference room. First is a Seer, one I know: Toth Anddag, the "Eldest Seer of the Outer Ring" and one who I can hope is at least positively disposed towards me. Next to him sits a Diplomat Enek Gogaa, who was introduced as the highest ranking member of the diplomatic corps on Xi. Finally, we again have the pleasure of visiting with the stone faced Mai Ee'shu, though I have to wonder if her presence means the appeal to the Emperor thing is a no-go. The pleasantries or in Mai Ee'shu's case the not very politenesses, are done and we are sitting in silence.

"So," I ask, "How does this play out exactly?"

"We are awaiting confirmation of instructions from the Emperor's council," Diplomat Gogaa says in almost flawless English.

"So I should guess this doesn't happen very often?" I wonder aloud.

Toth Anddag replies, "To our knowledge, this is the first time a human has had both the right and a need to appeal to the Emperor. We do not wish to improperly expose any more Hatched to humans than need be nor expose Jiā's location to any outsiders."

"You mean we would get to go to Jiā?"

He nods, "Yes. You have appealed to the Emperor, you must go to where the Emperor is."

"Wow..."

"What's a Jiā?" Bashir whispers.

"Jiā is the legendary homeworld of the Xi'An and seat of Imperial power," I reply quietly and it seems all three Xi'An find my answer humorous... even Mai Ee'shu.

The Toth Anddag explains, "You must forgive Shawn Ryan's description, Bashir Abboud. Jiā is our home before all homes, our paradise, that place where all true Hatched dwell at least in heart, and the Place of the Throne of His Imperial Majesty, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray."

"Kinda like Eden?" Bashir boldly asks to something of a frown from the old Seer.

"Please forgive him," I comment, "Bashir doesn't know the proprieties yet."

He nods, then admits, "I do not know of this 'Eden', Bashir Abboud."

I look at Bashir and instruct, "When you reply, if the other person has pronounced your name, especially if they are higher ranking, then you are obligated to pronounce theirs. Do you understand?"

"Okay. I'll try." He looks back at the Seer and answers, "Eden is the Biblical home of humans, Toth Andag."

"Anddag," he gently corrects before I can.

Bashir tries again, "Anddag."

"Very good. You learn quickly. And I thank you for telling me of this planet, I had not heard this."

"Oh, it wasn't a planet, just a place on Earth."

"Ah, I see."

"The business at hand," Mai Ee'shu breaks in, "Is how to we minimize their exposure while obeying the Right to Appeal to the Throne? Klaahk did not foresee this detail where the contradictory rules on the Protection from Exposure to Aliens and Right to Approach the Throne vie with the Right to Appeal to the Throne."

Seer Anddag opines, "I still believe that the Right to Appeal will outweigh the others with the proper precautions. So we put them into complete stasis here and only revive them once they are on the Palace grounds, then maintain a quarantine until they are actually to appear before the Emperor Himself."

"What are you talking about?" I ask with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Whether my question inspires the Diplomat or not, he raises a new line of thought, "Do either of them understand the Right of Appeal to the Throne or the possible outcomes?"

I answer directly, "No, Enek Gogaa, I don't believe we have had that explained yet."

Mai Ee'shu must be the ranking expert, because she answers, "Right of Appeal to the Throne has one of two outcomes: Your charges are dismissed or you are executed for wasting the Throne's consideration."

"That's some fine print."

"Do you still wish to Appeal to the Emperor?"

I look over at Bashir, "What do you think?"

"We aren't guilty. Do we have any other choice?"

"Doesn't look like it."

I look back at the three of them, "Yes, we still wish to Appeal to the Emperor."

Enek Gogaa looks at each of the other two Xi'An and says, "I consider them to have been appropriately warned."

Mai Ee'shu smiles rather like a predator while Toth Anddag simply nods.

…..

"Are we going to be okay?" Bashir asks, a bit of uncertainty on his face.

"Well, I sure hope so," I reply. "I'm going to do everything I can to keep you out of trouble at the very least."

"Well, yeah, I understand that, but I mean these things." He points at the cryo tubes we are about to be loaded into.

"To be honest, I figured they were going to let us use MUD, but they have their own formula for mammals that they assure me works fine."

"Mammals?" the teen asks, looking appropriately dubious.

"An'shan. It is supposedly a term only used for humans, but Kree'Gna once admitted it applied to all warm blooded creatures, especially mammals."

Bashir's voice falls as he says, "Can I admit that I don't think that's really reassuring?"

I nod, "Sure. I sure don't find it at all comforting either. But apparently they don't have the equipment for reviving MUDdy bodies and they claim this always works."

The medical staff of four seems organized and efficient, but we still watch them closely. We are in our flight suits with helmets at hand, I guess they want us suited to reduce any margin of error... at least they should have complete control of the suit's environment.

The one who is translating comes over to the both of us and requests, "Please put your head equipment on and recline in the stasis containers."

I nod to Bashir and say, "Comms on low power direct."

He looks puzzled, "How?"

"You mobi should already be synced with the suit, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"When the helmet latches, bring up your suit controls and you will have the helmet functions available. Choose low power and when I give you a thumbs up, take the local comm sync option."

"Why didn't I have to do this on the ship?"

Part of me is annoyed with all the questions, but he won't learn if he doesn't ask. "Ship comms automatically link with both mobi and helmet by default. You've got to turn the link off to make it completely person to person."

"Won't the Xi'An ships link to our helmets?"

"Be pretty boring if they did, just hearing us snore or whatever. Besides, I think they will exclude our connections anyway, they get pretty paranoid about us having access to their ships, especially since we are going where no human has gone before."

The interpreter is rather annoyed with our conversational delay, "Head equipment and recline please!"

We both don the helmets, I adjust my glove settings, and after I see him set the mobiglas link up, I give him a thumbs up. The sync request lights and I accept it.

"Can you hear me?" Bashir asks.

"Sure can. You?"

"Loud and clear."

"Okay, in we go," I state as I lay into the cryo cylinder. Continuing, I tell the teen, "I don't know how long their formula takes, if you have any questions, ask."

"Yes, sir. And thanks for bringing me. I know this hasn't turned out like we thought, but it's been the greatest adventure of my life."

"You're a good..." I was about to say 'kid' but correct myself, "... Young man, Bashir. I'm proud to have you along."

I see one of the medics bend over me, feel straps securing me, and note a change in the air flowing into my suit. Then there is a sharp needle prick and almost immediately I am losing my vision... that or the cylinder is going black.

"I can't see!" Bashir isn't exactly panicked, but alarmed is at least accurate.

"It's normal, I've got the same," I reply as reassuringly as possible.

"Okay."

"See you when we get there."

"Yeah," he says. "Lord Bless."

I guess I've overlooked his faith of late, but just now, I hope that if there is a "Lord" watching over him that Whoever does extend a little of that "bless" stuff to me.

…..

I wonder if their system isn't working. It's still black and air seems to be moving gently past my face.

"Mr. Ryan?"

"Bashir?"

"When are they going to do it?"

"I don't know, I thought..."

I'm interrupted by a blinding light and it's all I can do not to scream when a head appears through the glare looking closely at me.

"Shuwn Ryn? Nadjah Ith Mayn? (more or less, Can you hear me?)"

Strange accent, but I think he is trying to ask if I can hear him. All that comes to mind is, "Ga (Yes)."

"What?" Bashir asks, then he apparently has a similar encounter, "Whoaaah!"

"I just told someone 'Ga.' That means 'yes'."

The teen sounds a little confused. "The translator person must be gone. I think someone is asking me something like 'Nadjy Ih May?'"

I repeat, "Just say 'Ga'."

"Ga?"

"Yes."

Concern is evident in Bashir's voice, "Is something wrong?"

My eyes are adjusting to the amount of light outside, not to mention I feel lighter. The room appears much larger than where we are... were... I wonder if... "Bashir, I think we are there already."

"I was just wondering that myself. I sure don't recognize these... is 'people' the right word for aliens like these?"

"Good enough for me, but that is a good question."

Hands release my straps and the tech working on me beckons me to sit upright. I'm a bit lightheaded at first, but that settles away.

The room is a vibrant emerald green, accented with silvers and golds. Overhead, the ceiling gives the appearance of bright sunlight filtering through trees, and at my feet the floors seem to be polished stone something like marble. Things that must be medical stations line the walls, and many techs in almost neon green garments move with accustomed purpose.

In my helmet, I hear Bashir say, "I can't understand you."

"Are you sitting up yet?" I ask.

"No, is that what he wants me to do?"

"Are you unstrapped?"

"Yes, sir."

"Try sitting up, but not too fast."

"Whoooaaahh! I can see why." Wonder fills his tone as he breathes, "This has gotta be somewhere else."

My tech is saying something, but I'm now completely past my simple Xi'An. "Ith Wahwei (I don't understand)," I repeat several times.

"What's that mean?" Bashir asks in my ear.

"It means 'I don't understand'."

"I need that one."

"Okay. 'Ith', 'I t h' is 'I', like 'me'."

"Got it."

"'Wahwei', ' i' is the 'don't understand' part."

"Ith wahwei?"

"You've got it. Sounds like you're a natural, kid." I hear him growl just a little, then I add, "Sorry, I forgot. You are indeed a young man and I shouldn't call you a kid. Forgive me?"

He sounds markedly brighter, "Yeah, it's all good."

My tech waves me to follow and I hesitantly rise. The ground is stable, but it takes a minute or so for my legs to confirm the fact. In the mean time, I join Bashir and help him to also stand.

We have both said "Ith Wahwei" several times to impossibly long questions when two familiar faces turn up: Seer Toth Anddag and Special Assistant Mai Ee'shu. Both are dressed much more formally than I have ever seen them, with flowing multicolored robes and their glyphs prominently displayed on their left sleeves. The Seer's eye, the Aet Nogg, though alone on Toth Anddag's sleeve, is an iridescent blue, startling in it's brilliance.

"Welcome to Jiā," the Seer intones, almost as if there was a special way to make this declaration.

"It is good to be here," I answer, hoping I haven't already failed my half of some ritual. "I was starting to wonder if we were going to have to learn Xi'An before we make our appeal."

"No," he replies with more smile than he old leathered face would seem able to grant. "There are several here who understand your speech just to make sure we translate you well."

I glance at Mai Ee'shu and hope she won't be one of those translating. Her look back at me is more inscrutable than ever.

…..

I note a lot of glances our way as we are ushered to an enclosed contraption. It isn't exactly a vehicle, it is... well... it's kinda like a small room with cushions inside that is mounted on two long horizontal posts. Once we are both inside it, there really isn't much more room, in fact, we can't even stand up, we pretty much just sit. The door and walls are translucent, with various images etched or otherwise imprinted in them, but it means we can't see out. The door latches and I hear the click of an old fashioned lock; we are going wherever without seeing anything... or perhaps that is more properly without others having to see us.

I hear no motor, but we begin moving in an undulating sort of way. I wonder if they are using some kind of anti-grav, a hover would make vibrations I would recognize. It seems strange.

Bashir is studying the walls, each image portrayed is a reason for fascination. He looks my way unexpectedly and says, "You know, I don't think I've ever seen a real sedan chair, much less got to ride in one."

"A what?"

"Sedan chair. I think that's what this is," he admits, then brightens as he continues, "I've seen them in history books. People used to carry important people in things like this on ancient Earth."

"Oh. So you think someone is carrying us?"

"Sure, can't you feel them taking steps?"

As I think about it, I recognize that he must be right. "Now that you mention it, I guess I do."

"Yeah. Pretty jix, don't you think?"

I nod and agree, "Yup. You're a smart... young man."

He grins widely, knowing I'm trying not to annoy him, "Thanks."

…..

We have been allowed to exit the sedan chair in a quiet little one-room building. The setting is very serene, there is a small waterfall at one end of the room, bringing a restful sound to the entire chamber. At the other, there are places to sit and what looks like a small kitchen. In between, aside from the sedan chair, there are cushioned mats that appear to be for sleeping. The whole inside of the cottage is lit from above, much like the place where we woke, and there are similar patters of light though these are as if though somewhat denser foliage.

There is a chime at the door, a small bell by the look of it, and this is now ringing.

"Hello?" I ask the air and the door opens.

"May I enter?" a somewhat familiar voice asks, though for the moment I can't place it.

"Please do. Enter and be welcome."

A deeply hooded Xi'An in a resplendent light turquoise robe enters. The glyphs on his left sleeve are diplomatic corps, done in a shiny black that stands out against the garment's colors like diamonds in sunshine.

I'm completely unprepared as the Xi'An before us tosses back his hood and Kree'Gna declares, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren!"

Uncharacteristically, I run to my friend and throw my arms around him, "KREE'GNA! Shē'sueren!"

He laughs and for just a moment hugs me back.

Then, we are our usual selves and I back away to a proper distance. "I understood you were dead, my friend."

"It was desired that many think such. It is all part of the plan."

"Who's plan?"

"You shall see. Do you have a message to deliver to His Imperial Highness?"

"Oh, yeah, that. I'll need to retrieve it, but yes, I do."

"Will you be long, my friend?"

"No, I shouldn't. May I first introduce you to my copilot, the quite able son of one of my best friends. Kree'Gna, please see Bashir Abboud."

"Bashir Abboud, Shē'sueren. I am delighted to meet you." Kree'Gna bows and I indicate to Bashir to do the same.

"Um, nice to meet you too, sir."

I pronounce the name, "Kree'Gna."

"Oh, sorry. Nice to meet you too, Kree'Gna."

"I'll teach him 'shē'sueren' as soon as possible," I say, rather sheepishly.

"It would be most advantageous to do that soon," Kree'Gna comments.

"Are we meeting the Emperor now?"

"No, not quite yet. In the interim, we will need to prepare. Nothing is certain about your appeal, Mai Ee'shu seems quite displeased that you will be heard and is in council with Emperor Kray as we speak."

"And if we fail our appeal?"

"You will be executed before day ends." The finality in his words is unmistakable. He smiles grimly and states, "I will return, please be prepared with your message for the First Above All Hatched."

…..

It occurs to me as I pull the chip and place it into my glove that a lot of things had to happen just right to get me here and still I've been lucky that I have the chip, my glove, and a helmet to be able to hear it all in. It all might have fallen apart if they had taken my gear or prohibited me from bringing it.

I do discover, perhaps not surprisingly, that I have been deprived of my weapon. I hadn't noticed since I woke, but the pistol and its holster are gone. A quick glance at Bashir confirms that his stunner is missing as well. I guess that at least makes sense.

The lad seems to be taking today in better stride than I am. He is at least exploring the cabin, checking their version of a refrigerator, and munching on something. I guess I need to find out what the message really is.

Almost immediately after locking the helmet on, an image comes onto my hud: "Code Word Please" is all it says.

"Indigent."

The prompt disappears and Janice Amesly's holo materializes.

"Shawn Ryan, if you are seeing this, I hope you are on Jiā about to be presented to Emperor Kray. I can not imagine what you have been through to get there, setting this up has been a nightmare all by itself. Please believe that your sacrifice will be rewarded if you are able to return."

"If?" I mutter to myself, but the little holo doesn't stop for my comment.

"I will now switch you to a direct message from Imperator Costigan, please be careful to understand what he asks you to share."

"Uh huh," I mumble as her holo fades and the Imperator's face replaces it.

"Shawn Ryan, you've gone out on a limb this time, but trust me, I won't forget it. Okay, please tell Emperor Kray the following."

He pauses and the friendly face is replaced by a very serious one.

"In return for dropping charges against and releasing Jenk Gallen, we agree to the following:

"One wholly Xi'An owned corporate entity, up to and including an Imperial Chartered corporation, is granted the right to hold market concessions within UEE space, to be purchased and operated according to local norms by said entity;

"We agree not to press espionage charges against any of your Seers while they personally accompany any of your diplomatic staff, though we reserve the right to question any who are not either within Embassy locations or in the presence of said Diplomats;

"Likewise, we agree to share with your designee all information we have about any entrance into you space, authorized or not, by government employees, contractors, or their assigns. We will also provide you with what little we have found out about who may have been behind Jenk Gallen's actions.

"Further, we accept that any persons from the UEE attempting to cross Xi'An Imperial territory are by nature of the action accepting Xi'An laws and governance. We do not encourage or condone any attempt to search out Xi'An jump points, nor any attempt to reach your sworn enemies beyond your borders.

"Finally, we ask privately that should future attempts be made to violate your space in such a manner, that you consider it the United Empire of Earth's overriding standing plea for any such human, be they Citizen or civilian, that the party or parties are guilty as charged and desirous of swift merciless execution of justice to be carried out with as little fanfare as possible."

The Imperator's face is looking directly at me, "Ryan, I'm sure that last bit will stick in your craw, but you need to repeat it just like that. We can't have a war in the offing every time some jackass senator thinks he is more important that the whole Empire. You have to make sure that you say that last part. Do you understand?"

His face freezes with that question and even though I know it's a recording, dejectedly I answer, "Yes, sir."

Janice Amesly's holo reappears as the Imperator's fades, but all she says is, "If you are successful, please destroy this chip. If not, I suspect they will accomplish the deed for you. Good luck."

…..

Kree'Gna has returned with a pair of gifts: outfits that I guess will make us presentable. Actually, if we live the day and get to keep them, they really are worth the cost of the trip by themselves. Next to the skin we have expertly tailored dragonskin shirts and breeches, with snug fitting high-topped dragonskin boots below; each is adorned with clasps that are a bright shiny silvery metal. The value of the dragonskins alone is enormous, at least in the UEE. Upon these we each have deep blue hooded robes that reach to our ankles, the robes have heavy woven belts that seem to also be a silvery metal spun fine. Our only concession to being humans is that we both have our mobi's, Bashir his standard model and I my glove.

Kree'Gna nods with approval as we finish arraying ourselves thus.

Bashir tries one more time, "Shē'sueren."

"Very good, Bashir Abboud."

"Thank you, Kree'Gna. May I ask you something?"

"Perhaps," the Xi'An answers.

"It seems like most of the Xi'An I've met have two names or more. Do you have more than Kree'Gna?"

A glimpse of pain or perhaps shame flickers across my friend's face. I step forward to give a reply, but with a wave of his hand, Kree'Gna stops me.

His hurt expression now replaced with pride, he explains "You do not know our ways, Bashir Abboud. I was hatched in a noname nest. When I was old enough to study, I began and worked hard to learn all I could learn. My father taught me the simple work skills, but I also learned the civil skills as taught by Klaahk and the Many Since. At the end of my service, I was recruited to the Kla'Shi En on Xi..." he pauses, seeing the blank look on my companions teenage face and explains, "The Civil Service University on Xi."

"Okay," Bashir seems back on track.

"I passed the Dog Sha'U, a battery of tests that lasts 10 of your standard days..."

"Ten DAYS?!" Bashir exclaims.

Kree'Gna ignores the interruption, "... On my first try, with excellent marks in several areas. But my parents died very shortly after and I was, for a long time, marooned in my being. I turned down the civil service posting offered and took to space to redeem myself. It was there that I met Shawn Ryan," he pauses and takes a deep telling breath, only continuing after exhaling, "After a rather humiliating experience with an ill humored crew. Shawn Ryan and I became partners and flew together for many years. I did return to Xi'An space and re-earned my place in the Empire as a Diplomatic Courier. That is why I wear the Civil Service glyph twice, once for the Caste itself and once because I have no family glyph. This one in between is the Diplomatic Pilot's Assignment glyph."

"Jix! Thanks for telling me, Mr. Kree'Gna."

The Xi'An chuckles and looks at me, "You must be very patient with him."

"Yup. But he is still learning. Heck he's only been offworld this once."

"Excuse, me," the lad interrupts, "Mr. Ryan?"

"Yes, Bashir?"

"I was actually born on Persei. I've just never been in space that I can remember."

"Oops, my bad."

…..

"You must take great care not to look His Imperial Majesty in the eye unless he has given you permission," Kree'Gna instructs.

"Don't look at him?"

"No, not unless given permission."

"How do we talk to him to make our appeal or whatever?"

"You will remain bowing and let either Toth Anddag or I translate."

"What about my message to him?"

"I do not know," the Xi'An admits sourly. "This is unprecedented, so I am not sure."

"Is there anything else I should know?"

A gong reverberates in the rafters above us.

"That is the signal. We must go now. You must both wear your hoods up over your heads like this," he pulls his own hood over his head so that it almost completely hides his face.

Bashir and I do the same. From under his hood, the teenager asks, "How do I see where I'm going?"

"Shawn Ryan will follow my feet, you will follow his."

"What if I trip?"

"Don't."

…..

I hear snatches of conversation above the crunch of Kree'Gna's boots on the gravel path, but I can't hear them for long enough to have any sense of meanings. On either side of the raked gravel we are striding along are leafy green plants jeweled with exotic flowers. Perfumes, perhaps from those very buds, dance in the air with aromas at once both sensual and sweet.

In front of me, Kree'Gna slows, then I see the first step up. And another. Individual stairs become a stairway wrought of exotic stones set together with polished silver metal.

Ten steps.

Twenty.

Now it's forty... I think... I'm losing count.

Still more.

…..

How long have we been climbing?

The urge to peek past the confines of my hood is a deafening roar in the otherwise quiet ascent.

At the very edge of my hearing I detect something like the songs of distant birds, but what might be calls are laden with alien oddness. I've been many strange places, but not seeing this one is perhaps enlarging my experience of sound and smell.

A rhythm of bells or chimes of some sort seems to tumble like a mountain stream down the stairs from ahead. There is a fresh breeze with a wafting scent similar to rich incense firs with a hearty addition of vanilla.

And still up we climb.

…..

The system's sun is glowing hot above our hoods, I'm starting to sweat more than a little in the swelter.

Near at hand, now, there seem to be tubular bells on both sides being played with a subtle beat and melody, though in an unfamiliar manner and complexity. Indeed, now I detect natural percussion behind them with a soft matching sandpaper shuffle. There is at least one instrument like a guitar or synth doing a winding dance in harmony so artful that it seems part of the ambient air's response to the musicians.

Near at hand, a shadow joins Kree'Gna's and low voices converse in carefully modulated words.

…..

The shade approaches unexpectedly, but in welcome relief. The steps end in a wide stone floor of closely laid quartz and lapis tiles. Now I see the first decorations, sparkling emerald figures, simplified representations of some of the different races of the Hatched.

Kree'Gna stops and turns towards Bashir and I. "Shawn Ryan and Bashir Abboud, you are in the presence of His Imperial Majesty, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray. Please bow in honor of His Imperial Person."

Bashir whispers from behind me, "Which way?"

"Straight ahead, I guess," I breathe, while bowing in the direction I am facing.

A loud voice calls out something in Xi'An; our two names are part of the introduction, but I have not the slightest clue about meanings of the rest of it. I also hear Toth Anddag's name and then in lesser veneration Kree'Gna's.

A gravelly voice answers from out in front, a strong voice that through art or nature carries as if amplified. Again, the words are lost on me, but I hear our names, those of the two Xi'An that accompany us, plus at least one other that I recognize: Mai Ee'shu.

Kree'Gna has explained what comes next, so I am not surprised, My name is called and I hold my hands out in front of me, palms upraised. From my side, Kree'Gna says, "You may speak to the Emperor now..."

"Emperor Kray," Bashir's voice rings out, "Shē'sueren!"

The Xi'An equivalent of a dozen or more gasps of complete shock sound all around me.

"No!" Toth Anddag snarls, "Bashir Abboud! Eyes down!"

"Oh?!" the teen sounds suddenly terrified, "Sorry!"

From in front of us comes something of a guttural laugh followed by that deep booming voice giving some instruction.

From my left, Toth Anddag replies, then instructs, "Bashir Abboud, His Imperial Majesty grants you permission to look upon him. You may let your hood back."

The deep voice does a warm Xi'An laugh and the pronounces, "Bashir Abboud, Shē'sueren."

"Thank you, your Majesty, sir."

The deep voice addresses Kree'Gna who in turn speaks to me, "Well, things are not quite according to protocol, but His Highness wishes to know if you will also greet Him."

"Isn't it proper to look at someone you are greeting?"

"Yes. You may also look upon the First Above All Hatched."

I lift my hood from my face and realize that I am barely ten meters from a majestic Xi'An sitting upon a simple but exquisite raised dais.

I bow low and also offer, "Haeeth Dogo Xi'A Xres Kray, Shē'sueren!"

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren," the Emperor replies with a carefully evaluating look.

The Emperor speaks and Kree'Gna translates for me, "It is as refreshing as it was unexpected to have had so honest a greeting as your young copilot has given me."

"Your Majesty should know that this youth, Bashir Abboud, is talented and honest, but he is still young and learning. I do apologize for any..."

The Emperor has been listening to a running translation and at this point raises his hand for silence. He speaks and this time, Toth Anddag translates to my teen companion, "His Majesty asks if you are not the copilot from the Argo?"

"Yes, your Majesty, sir," Bashir replies, his eyes never leaving the Emperor's face.

I look quickly around while this is happening and realize much. For one, the reason we had to climb so far is that we are at the apex of a cone-shaped hillock, with broad views of a verdant lush world. There are several courtiers or councilors gathered, and Mai Ee'shu is seated off to the Emperor's right maybe three meters away on a low stone bench.

The Emperor isn't done with Bashir yet. "His Highness asks if you were not also the person who had some experiences with space sickness in the presence of His Daughter?"

Bashir looks briefly at me and then back at Emperor Kray, "Yes, your Majesty, sir. I was kinda impatient and well... I didn't listen to... um... Captain Ryan." I see him wince a little before admitting, "I sorta drank sour milk and threw up all over."

"His Majesty understands that you are not yet assigned to military duty."

"Um... I don't really understand that, your Majesty, sir."

Emperor Kray's expression grows a bit more somber and he looks my way. Kree'Gna acts as interlocutor, "Shawn Ryan, it is known that not all human nestlings participate in military service, but His Majesty understands that this youth has shot down deployed torpedoes. He asks why Bashir Abboud is not being sent to serve; he wants your explanation."

"Your Highness," I try to explain, "Bashir Abboud is the son of a close friend. His service with me is voluntary and was not meant to be a combat position. We had expected no more than a shakedown flight. You probably know that since our species is so short-lived, we have chosen to allow our youth the choices of their future."

The Emperor says something and I at least catch the name "Klaahk" within his question. "His Majesty asks if you have not studied the Precepts of Klaahk. He advises that wasting such talent is foolish."

Wow, how do I tell an Emperor in his own house that he is barking up the wrong tree? Maybe by appealing to my low position? "Please, your Highness, I do not presume to tell our leaders how to govern our people. I have not been asked my opinion of how we raise our youth and since I have never been a father I expect to never have the right to participate in such a decision."

This answer seems to trouble Emperor Kray, but he changes the subject. Toth Anddag speaks for him, "Bashir Abboud, what do you think of His Majesty's terrace?"

"This is SO COOL!" Bashir blurts out, spinning around and appearing to take in the millions of sights and smells all at once.

The old Emperor laughs. "His Majesty says he has not seen such enthusiasm here since eldest of his fourth nesting first came here at three."

"Um, Sorry, sir."

That answer draws a confused question, "Why is Bashir Abboud sorry?"

"This place should be enjoyed... shouldn't it?"

Again, the Emperor finds laughter in the teenager's forthrightness.

"His Majesty says that if you were a Xi'An, he would assign you to court so that you could inspire such excitement more often."

In my ear, Kree'Gna whispers, "I don't understand where this is going, but at least for the moment, Mai Ee'shu seems to have been left out."

"What about the appeal?"

"I don't advise rushing His Majesty. He seems quite fascinated by Bashir's innocence."

Emperor Kray notices our conversation and I'm not at all sure his look my way is approving.

"His Majesty asks Bashir Abboud if he believes Shawn Ryan is honorable and honest."

My heart seems to skip a beat and in slow motion I see my dark haired copilot look my way before answering, "Sir, er... your Highness, sir, Captain Ryan is honest even when I think he doesn't want to be. He's a good adult, even if he doesn't understand what it's like to be a teenager these days."

After the translation, the Emperor's eyes wander back to me. "His Majesty asks if you have anything to share with him?"

"Yes, Your Highness. A message from my Imperator."

…..

"Is that all?" Toth Anddag asks at Emperor Kray's insistence. All eyes are on me... the intensity of their stares is like static crawling on my skin.

I've said everything... except that I don't want to add the last bit that Imperator Costigan told me to say. Anyone they catch can be summarily executed, the UEE won't question it? How can I say that?

His Majesty growls a question and Kree'Gna repeats what the Seer asked, though with a bit more urgency, "Is that all, Shawn Ryan?"

Mai Ee'shu is suddenly on her feet, a torrent of fluent Xi'An verbiage flowing towards her father.

"No," I say, so softly that I hope they miss it.

Emperor Kray, however, has heard my answer and raises his hand emphatically towards his daughter. She falls silent and again all eyes turn to me.

I can't bring myself to say it.

Toth Anddag wonders aloud, "Is it so terrible? He threatens war?"

His Highness is frustrated and shouts something in as angry a tone as I've heard yet.

"Shawn Ryan, you must obey your orders," Kree'Gna intones. "That is why you are here... what..."

My voice not much more than a whisper, I interrupt, "Imperator Costigan wishes the Emperor to consider any humans caught where they do not have permission to be to have our government plead guilty for them and he further indicates that it is the default position of the UEE that those guilty parties desire swift execution of justice."

Kree'Gna, standing beside me, has heard it all well enough to translate.

Emperor Kray settles and Mai Ee'shu returns to her seat.

The unexpected voice intruding on the silence is Bashir's, "How could he do that?"

I look his way, "To the powerful, everyone is guilty, especially little people."

Several of the Xi'An around me grumble as the old Seer translates this.

The Emperor speaks and Kree'Gna translates, "You do not approve of your Imperator's offer?"

Looking back at the most powerful of this all too alien race, I respectfully reply, "In all honesty, your Majesty, no, I don't."

His gaze is intense and, unless I miss the mark, very disapproving. Mai Ee'shu whispers something and His Highness' next question is shorter, "Are you named?"

I know his meaning: am I from a rich or noble family? I'm not, but I draw myself up to my full stature and face him proudly, "I am Shawn Ryan, Son of Seamus, Son of Tadhg, Child of the Last Wild Geese. I am human and I am unashamed."

My response seems to surprise Kree'Gna and he hesitates to translate it. Mai Ee'shu has no such compunctions, gloating as my words in her speech seem to mock my tone.

The Emperor nods and dismissively says, "Ith nog. Tash nē taahg'naagch. (I see. Continue (telling) of your dishonor)."

They are all looking at me... except the Emperor; he is looking at Kree'Gna, waiting for him to translate.

Finally, Kree'Gna quietly says, "Shawn Ryan, His Majesty says..."

I angrily cut him off under my breath, "I know what His Majesty said. Would you ask if we may go now?"

"No, Shawn Ryan. You do not ask First Above All Hatched if you may leave. You must wait until dismissed."

"He has the Imperator's message. What need is there for me to stand here and be insulted?"

"Because you may not dismiss yourself, Shawn."

"If Bashir were not here..."

Toth Anddag interrupts, "His Majesty has asked you to continue, Shawn Ryan."

Irritation in my voice, I respond clearly, "That is not exactly what he said, is it, Toth Anddag?"

Now the Seer is irritated too, "What exactly do you mean by that, An'shan?"

"I understand that 'tash' means 'continue, but I also know that 'taahg'naagch' has to do with dishonor. You did not mention that."

Mai Ee'shu says something to her father and he nods. Beside me, Kree'Gna says quietly, "Don't let them provoke you, Shawn Ryan. Please."

I look into his pleading eyes, but I shake my head and glare back at Seer Anddag. In an obvious sign of disrespect, I use only his title, "Seer, would you be so kind as to inform the First Above All Hatched Emperor Kray that I have served both my duty to the Imperator and my own honor with honesty. Since my service and dignity is questioned, I will now be silent until dismissed."

His eyes grow large, he understands my protest, but I suspect His Majesty isn't used to being told such things. Mai Ee'shu, however, has translated for him and the Emperor's angry tone carries. Kree'Gna bows low and motions for the two of us to follow.

The next order takes me by surprise; Toth clearly says, "Bashir Abboud, you will remain behind."

I look angrily over at the lad and see something flare in his eyes that I had not anticipated. "Your Highness, how can you make me a prisoner? I belong with Captain Ryan."

From her place opposite the dais, Mai Ee'shu hisses, "Silence, He has order..."

Bashir interrupts passionately, "Mr. Ryan told me that your people were all about honor. How is it honorable to do this?"

I try to get his attention, "Bashir!"

"What?"

"Let it go. I'm not leaving without you."

"And I'm leaving with you. I don't belong here," he is almost sobbing with rage as he points accusingly at Mai Ee'shu, "She made us come, made you bring me! It's her fault!"

Naked anger flashes across Mai Ee'shu's face and she uncharacteristically screams at Bashir something I can not translate. Emperor Kray and several of those around us look her way, shocked at the outburst.

I think for a moment that the Emperor will rebuke his daughter, but it isn't to be. He looks back towards Bashir and Toth Anddag and gives an order.

The old Seer bows and informs the teen, "His Majesty did not mean to make a prisoner of you, Bashir Abboud. Your request to leave with your Captain is accepted, you are also dismissed. The Appeal hearing is set for tomorrow at high sun. You will both appear before the Emperor's High Council and hear His judgment."

…..

The staircase is long and the sun hot.

"Hoods up," Kree'Gna orders before we are halfway down. This time, though, having them over our heads does nothing to hide the world below us.

Before us spreads a large park with hundreds or maybe thousands of individuals going about their business. There are some who seem to be sitting in the sunshine, perhaps to rest or maybe even just soaking in the sun like reptiles and birds do on many planets. No one looks our way, even though we are obvious as we move down the stone pavements to the pathways below.

I hear what must be a ship pass not too far overhead, and realize that it is the first I've hear in quite a while.

I let my eyes stray to the edge of my vision, perhaps five or more kilometers out, and notice that there is a very high wall of stone or brick, mostly of a green hue with silver and gold accents. Beyond that I can see the tops of Xi'An habitats, their somewhat organic shapes like a tapestry of mostly emerald-hued ant-hills reaching to the horizon.

…..

"What happened up there?" Bashir asks from behind me over the crunch, crunch of our boots on gravel.

Before I can respond, Kree'Gna hisses, "Silence. You must be silent until we are in your quarters."

"Okay." Bashir replies under his breath and my mind's eye sees him rolling his eyes as clearly as if he were standing in front of me.

…..

Kree'Gna closes the door and I see him sag heavily onto a nearby stone bench.

"My friend, are you okay?" I ask with concern.

He looks up, drained and haggard, "No, Shawn Ryan."

"What's wrong?" I ask, moving closer to assist.

"May I be honest with you, Shawn Ryan?"

"Please do, Kree'Gna."

"Your temper almost got us killed; it may still cost you your life. Why did you try to provoke them? Don't you remember that you still have to appear before His Majesty for your appeal?"

"Well... um... yeah, I do now."

"Would you confront your Imperator with such disregard for your own safety?"

"I already have."

"Oh. Perhaps I assumed too much about how your nonamed classes relate to those above them."

"I'm not a noname," I insist, even getting a bit incensed with my friend.

"Do not be angry with me, Shawn Ryan. You know enough about us to understand this. Without the Civil Service, I would only have the caste I worked within." He is reminding me, as subtly as possible that he too is a noname in this culture.

"You didn't accept that, though. You made something of yourself."

"Before the First Above All Hatched, I am as nothing. Did you not see that?"

"Yeah, I did," I admit. "Kinda pissed me off, too."

"Why was he going to make me stay?" Bashir interrupts insistently. "I felt like he was making me a hostage."

"I am not Emperor," Kree'Gna says quietly.

That satisfies the teen less than what I think the real answer is and he says so, "Yeah, but why?"

Kree'Gna sighs and looks my way, "Are all human nestlings like this?"

Smiling, I shrug, "Well, you remember exactly how many children I have, right?"

"None," he exhales.

"And you are asking me to explain a teenager?"

He chuckles, "Perhaps I should have called for one of mine to keep this one busy."

"You have children... er... nestlings?"

Kree'Gna's head tilts as if he sees me in a new light. "Yes, Shawn Ryan. I have had one nest with Jaesha'Gna. There are four nestlings, all nearing age of service. Eēgra, a male, is my eldest."

I grin widely, "Why you wily old lizard, how come you never told me?"

He seems a bit confused by the question, "Because you have never asked."


	32. Chapter 31 – Well?

What was I thinking? I really just wanted to get in, repeat what Costigan ordered, and go home. Instead, I take offense at and antagonize arguably the most powerful individual creature in the known galaxy, while alienating one of my few possible allies in Toth Anddag. Granted, I've had a bad feeling about this mess from the start, but now we're here, virtually imprisoned on a hidden world awaiting a probable death sentence from the very Xi'An I so foolishly pissed off.

Playing the scene over in my mind, some things do become clear. I'm certain that Mai Ee'shu had carried a near version of the Imperator's message; mine was really just meant to independently corroborate hers. It seems obvious to me that the Emperor expected it all, especially that last part; I bet it was more upsetting to him before I said it because he though perhaps the Imperator had changed his mind.

The irony is made all the more hard to take because the very message I delivered to His Highness applies to either Bashir or me if we so much as leave this room. After all, to leave would put us where we aren't allowed and my own government says that if I'm caught, I've already admitted to my guilt and expressed a desire to be swiftly executed without recourse.

I take a deep breath and try to relax. Kree'Gna has gone somewhere and Bashir is trying to cook the stuff he found in the fridge. Bashir... I need to get the poor kid the hells out of here. He didn't do anything wrong; I don't care what the she-witch has accused him of, I'll find a way to make sure any penalty is only on me. After all, I'm the Captain... pretty smart of Bashir to call me that, in this culture it will probably mean something.

Through the walls I can hear what sounds like a concert, though what they are playing is either so far from what I recognize that it would drive me mad in person... that or there are several concerts of wildly different styles going on in different directions and we just happen to be smack dead center and hearing the whole lot without any of them being able to drown out the others. Either way, if this keeps up, the Emperor will be doing me a favor by noon tomorrow to execute me.

The door slides open and we have an unexpected guest. I do not recognize him, though perhaps there is something familiar about the features... maybe he was on the terrace this afternoon. I do at least see the Imperial Nest-Line glyph in effervescent blue shimmering on his opulent crimson robes.

"You forgive my come, please," he tries in halting English.

I rise and bow, indicating for Bashir to do likewise. Well, I tried to to that, but he must not have seen me from the intensity of his culinary activities.

"Good evening, how may I help you?"

"Yes, Shawn Ryan?"

"I'm Shawn Ryan."

"Ith Naaēlish..." he stops and tries again, "Sorry, I Naaēlish."

"Naaēlish," I offer, "Shē'sueren."

He looks thunderstruck, as if this is the last thing he could expect of me. I wonder if this poor creature is maybe our attorney tomorrow. Hmmm, on the other hand, except for the language, he seems completely in command of himself... or at least was until I bid him shē'sueren.

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren." His reply is almost melodic and his confidence has returned.

Bashir finally tears himself away and bounds brightly over, "Dinner's almost done, who's this?"

"Naaēlish, please see my copilot, Bashir Abboud."

I've gone too fast for his language skills, I hope he doesn't give up. Bashir, of course, does the least Xi'An thing imaginable: he reaches out a hand for a fist bump and says "Hello! Want some dinner..."

"Bashir," I interrupt quickly, "Remember Shē'sueren?"

"Oh, sorry, what is his name again?"

"Naaēlish."

"Naaēlish, Shē'sueren!"

I'm starting to wonder what he is cooking over there and if he has maybe gotten into a mug of glee'ha or something stronger.

Naaēlish seems utterly fascinated with the teenager and responds, "Bashir Abboud, Shē'sueren."

Our door chime rings and I say to the air, "Come in."

Open it slides and Kree'Gna steps inside, though a moment later he drops the small bag he was carrying and bows low. Suddenly something about Naaēlish seems different, only now do I recognize that he has more than a confident bearing.

Our guest speaks, "Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

Though Kree'Gna straightens, deference is still in his posture... just as it was this afternoon. "Naaēlish Ee'shu, Shē'sueren."

I recognize half that name and look at Kree'Gna, "Ee'shu? Is he Mai's little brother?"

Kree'Gna looks me in the eye and steadily says, "He is the current heir."

I look back at Naaēlish and see a broad Xi'An smile decorating his face. Stammering, I struggle to find the words to correct my error, "Please, uh, forgive me, um... your Highness?"

My friend translates his response, "Naaēlish is the only name that he wishes you both to call him." Kree'Gna adds with a certain hushed awe, "It is a great honor."

I'm about to answer when Bashir says, "Jix. Look, I got dinner ready, anybody want some?"

Kree'Gna translates and Naaēlish replies. "His Highness was going to invite you to the Emperor's table, but since Bashir has made the first invitation, he is unwilling to dishonor it and wishes to join you both."

"Well, can't you eat something as well?" Bashir asks Kree'Gna.

"Oh, no. Human food disagrees with my digestion."

I interject, "Perhaps Naaēlish would wish to see what Bashir has prepared before he consents to eating with us."

This idea seems to be agreeable to all involved and the Prince (or whatever he should be called) walks with Bashir to the grill.

Kree'Gna takes this moment to lean close and ask, "What had you talked about before I got here?"

"Names, mostly. Bashir was being an irrepressible teenager and just like he got Emperor Kray's attention, he seems to be getting positive marks from Naaēlish."

The two come back, both trying to speak with the other but neither communicating... at least in words.

Kree'Gna translates again, "Naaēlish Ee'shu asks that both of you join the Imperial table, but he also asks that Bashir be so kind as to bring the bread he has made."

I look at the young Mr. Abboud and ask, "You made bread?"

"Yeah, I tried to make fatayer like Momma makes, but what I ended up with is... well... there was flour-like stuff and a few basic ingredients so I experimented." He shrugs, "Why?"

I shake my head, "Too much talent for me. You did good, bring 'em."

"Yes, sir." Bashir's brow furrows, "Are we sure the Emperor won't go bats when we show up? He seemed pretty pissed this afternoon."

I look Naaēlish's direction and Kree'Gna asks something relevant. The answer is unequivocal, "His Highness has invited both of you, protocol places the demands of courtesy on the host. As a member of the Imperial Nest-Line, Naaēlish has the right to host guests at table, but what he has said leads me to think that His Imperial Majesty has personally extended the invitation."

I shrug, "Okay, I guess we trust the Prince."

Kree'Gna adds, "I have suggested that the Imperial Table allow you to bring more fare fitting for human tastes, but Naaēlish Ee'shu has declared that there will be food suitable to your palates already prepared."

Bashir smiles; "Cool."

"Jix," I smile and hope he is right. "Can't beat that," I opine.

…..

We are robed again, but though we still have dragonskins underneath, this time we're in bright scarlet robes that match Naaēlish's in color. There is also a symbol of pale blue that looks like the emblem of a star Citizen, a large four-point star with concentric circles around it and a wreath beyond; it is embroidered where the Xi'An first glyph would go and looks very official. In the second glyph position, I have the same emblem that Kree'Gna does, that of a Diplomatic Pilot/courier. Kree'Gna, by the way is also now in scarlet with his trio of glyphs in shimmering white.

As we crunch along the pathway in the growing dusk, I have to wonder exactly what is up. We haven't been instructed to put our hoods up, we're following one of the Emperor's sons, and Bashir even has his mishappened fatayers in a basket wrapped with cloths... they do smell pretty good, by the way.

Are we on display? Word of this afternoon's visit on the terrace may have spread, this might be more about showing courtesy than about us. I really don't know... I guess I could just be overthinking it...

Bashir isn't having any problems; he is curious, looking around and asking Kree'Gna questions about everything. Ever so often, Kree'Gna laughs and says something to Naaēlish, who also gets a chuckle out of whatever as well. I don't seem to be able to let go of this afternoon. I feel like I'm missing out on the experience somehow.

…..

The Imperial Table is the centerpiece of a long broad hall. Perhaps it would be more accurate to call it the Imperial Tables, since the Emperor's portion at one end is slightly raised above the rest, just as his seat is elevated higher than all the other seats. Near at hand are his "immediate" family: his Empress and their three current nestlings. Slightly beyond that are other family members and their families, guests, or both; they are seated oddly, the eldest of each nesting gets some kind of preference to the main table, while the remaining nestlings of many ages are almost hap-hazardously scattered along side tables.

We are seated with Naaēlish and Kree'Gna and a female who is about Naaēlish' age. They're on one side of the main table and Bashir and I on the other. We're maybe ten seats removed from the Emperor's raised section and most places are filled along the main table... the exception being two seats to my immediate left and the one beside Bashir's right side. In other words, no one wants to sit next to the humans. The Xi'An on either side of Naaēlish' trio seem to be taking care to only glance our way; no one has attempted to speak to Bashir or myself. A quick look up and down the table doesn't reveal Mai Ee'shu, perhaps she isn't coming tonight... I can only hope.

Dinner is served and we do indeed have human food, a delicate meat that tastes like fish, various cooked soft grains, and a light orange wine that tastes of flowers. Bashir has shared his basket of fatayer, but other than he and I, only Naaēlish is trying any.

I soon realize that heredity works differently here. Naaēlish is next in line to the throne, but he is actually the youngest of those eligible at 33 shaē old (shaē are 400 "day" year-like periods, so 33 shaē is a little over 36 years). He explains that eligibility is determined to be the youngest male xres'sa (the eldest from each nesting) who has completed his term of military service. It gets complicated if none fit the criteria, but he explains that the idea is to have emperors hold the throne for centuries.

"For example," Kree'Gna translates, "The oldest living male xres'sa, Tran Ee'shu, is from Emperor Kray's second nesting, he is already 214 shaē so even if he were to ascend to the Imperial throne today, he might be considered fortunate to have 60 shaē left before another would need to take his place. The xres'sa from the nesting after Naaēlish is a female, so even though she is serving in the Navy now her position will not supplant that of Naaēlish. The next replacement to age Naaēlish into another position is the young xres'sa, Teekor, at the Emperor's place," he points, "sitting beside His Imperial Majesty."

I can see the small children, er... nestlings... that the Empress is all but feeding from their plates.

"Three year... sorry, shaē old?"

"Two."

"Ah." I do some mental math, "With another thirteen to Age of Service and then fifteen shaē serving, Naaēlish looks to be in place for a while."

"Exactly," Kree'Gna agrees.

Naaēlish offers some of Bashir's pastry to the moderately sized female sitting beside him and wearing the same scarlet color. Her response is delight, her nose dilating to take in the unfamiliar smells and her eyes sparkling with moisture.

Beside me, Bashir asks, "Do you think they like it?"

"I think both of them do."

"How can you tell?" he asks and for a moment, I'm at a loss to understand how he could miss the... expressions.

Maybe I've been working with Kree'Gna for so many decades that the subtleties of their facial expressions which are lost on him are simply obvious to me. How inscrutable they must seem to his young eyes.

"It takes time to tell, Bashir," is all I can finally say. Something else does occur to me as I watch the two of them: perhaps they are a pair.

"Kree'Gna," I ask quietly, "Are Naaēlish and that female paired?"

Kree'Gna says something to Naaēlish and he does that Xi'An chuckle, takes the female's hand, and they both look at each other.

Together they slowly, musically intone, "Grrsatch." As they speak, their eyes close and their heads rise as if to look up; they could be in a mutual trance, or maybe reliving a ritual interaction. If that were not enough, the way their voices intertwine as they purr together this one word leaves no doubt in my mind that they are a nesting pair. Out of the corner of my eye, I note that several other male/female pairs around the room are doing the exact same ritualized interaction, though none are speaking. Something about this reflects a core meaning in Xi'An culture... it seems far more important to the whole than marriage often is for humans.

As if synchronized by their interaction, Naaēlish and his mate turn to me at the same moment and he says, "Shawn Ryan, please..." he falters, obviously searching for a word.

Kree'Gna understands the need and says, "See."

Naaēlish tries again, "Shawn Ryan, please see NeeTah."

I stand from my place and bow, "NeeTah, Shē'sueren."

At my side, Bashir mimics me, also greeting the happily smiling NeeTah.

She replies in kind, but remains seated. Naaēlish says something to Kree'Gna and my friend informs us that NeeTah isn't rising to return our courtesy because she is soon to lay. I don't ask, but suspect from his tone that it must be obvious to them that something about getting up and down too much can negatively hasten the process or damage the egg formation, or something similar. Heck, I don't understand much about pregnant women, I'm sure not questioning an alien species about their reproductive quirks.

"His Highness says that NeeTah really likes the fatayer, Bashir Abboud."

"Um, Thanks."

To Bashir I whisper, "Kree'Gna."

"Oh, sorry. Thanks, Kree'Gna."

My Xi'An friend smiles warmly, "It looks like you have a good pupil, Shawn Ryan."

Barely grudgingly, I agree, "He is a smart one when he wants to be."

…..

The relative peace of dinner vaporizes for me as Mai Ee'shu enters the room and walks stiffly to Emperor Kray's place. I must not be the only one in the room who notices this, for much of the Xi'An chitchat has died down. Even Naaēlish seems alert to her movement past, though I would guess he is unconcerned.

Bashir, as usual, is totally oblivious as he continues to try to describe making fatayer through Kree'Gna's translation to NeeTah. Bashir keeps insisting that really good fatayer like Jurdi makes needs cooked lamb and apparently NeeTah is confused by the very thought of cooking such succulent raw meat.

I try not to stare at my antagonist as she speaks with the First Above All Hatched, looking instead at Naaēlish and NeeTah. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mai Ee'shu move, but I continue to look at the heir and his wife.

All conversation stops as Mai Ee'shu takes the seat beside me and sits quietly. Kree'Gna stops in mid-word and allows the unthinkable: his mouth stays open in shock. Were I to guess, only Naaēlish looks as if nothing more normal could have happened.

A table servant brings a feast of some skinned creature and large fruits, placing it in an orderly fashion before the silent creature sitting almost close enough to touch me. A smallish pitcher of Imperial glee'ha is the last thing set before her. A small arc-knife appears and I try not to flinch as she easily slices an entire leg off her dinner and then chomps at least five centimeters off the end... her beak easily biting through bone and all.

I get the distinct impression that she isn't happy about this situation, but that she is following some directive. The Xi'An sitting next to Kree'Gna and across from Mai is trying to look uninterested, but I know Xi'An well enough to have no doubt that he is incredibly curious about something.

Mai finishes her bite and takes a second. The shearing sound that her beak makes through the leg-bone is both torturous and swift. I sure wouldn't want to stick my hand near that face, she could take it off with a single bite, that beak is a veritable weapon.

I realize that Naaēlish isn't watching her... he is watching me. A quick glance at the Emperor's face could reflect the same... though he would also have to look past me to see her.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. She may not be enjoying this, but she sure is making sure that bone is destroyed. She swallows and the leg is moving for her mouth.

I decide to interrupt, "Mai Ee'shu, Shē'sueren."

I swear you could hear a hair drop.

I'm looking at her; with a leg of food like an over-sized drumstick in one hand, a glowing arc-knife in the other, and a little blood smeared on her beak where she has bitten through the raw meat she looks like some nightmare out of our distant past. Her head pivots slowly and our eyes lock. She is controlling her breathing, but everyone else in the rest of the room is holding their collective breaths, filled with an overpowering sense of electricity. At this moment, Mai Ee'shu and I are the absolute center of attention.

"Shawn Ryan..." Her eyes flicker to her father, then Naaēlish, and then lock back onto myself. "I can not honestly offer you Shē'sueren. But you are welcome at this table and I honor those who have invited you."

I have no idea what to say, and at least for the moment she is done speaking, jamming at least ten centimeters of leg into her mouth and chomping that off like a snapping turtle might sever a finger.

I look over to Kree'Gna and Naaēlish. The former has at least closed his mouth, though I think he is still stunned at the current state of the interaction. The latter nods briefly my way, then looks up at his father at the raised end of the table. Emperor Kray has his fingers folded in front of his nose much the way some humans steeple theirs.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.

CHOMP! Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Over and over, until the leg is gone, then she repeats her actions through the other leg.

I'm trying for all the world to let it go and notice something, anything else... but I'm failing miserably.

She finishes the second leg, turns off the arc-knife, and quietly says, "I have behaved as a young nestling and dishonored my father, Haeeth Dogo Xi'A Xres Kray (First Above All Hatched Kray). My emotional outburst disgraced my nestline and I seek to make amends with Bashir Abboud."

I realize that Bashir has been listening, because he answers, "I forgive you, Mai Ee'shu."

"You forgive me? What does that mean?"

"I don't hold it against you. Somebody says He forgives me the way I forgive others, so I'm good with that."

"I do not follow," she says, rather crossly.

"In my faith, I'm told that if I forgive others, my heavenly Father will forgive me. Besides, I sure don't understand you guys, so who am I to judge?"

This concept is as foreign to Mai as it is to me. "But what payment or action do you require?" she asks.

"None. It would be nice if we could be friends again."

Now it is Mai Ee'shu's turn to sit with her mouth open in shock. Oddly enough, my expression probably matches hers.

Finally, Mai Ee'shu says, "You are a strange creature, Bashir Abboud." Before he can answer, she rises, turns away from us and strides out of the room.

"You could at least have asked her to drop the charges against us," I say under my breath with a bit of annoyance.

"That isn't the right thing to do. I've already screwed this trip up enough anyway. I wanted to do the right thing."

I may not understand him, but his eyes reflect a certainty that I won't try to refute.

Naaēlish says something, a look akin to wonder on his face. Kree'Gna tries to explain what Bashir said, his translation colored by the same wonder carried in his own voice. Finally, we hear, "That was completely unexpected."

Bashir looks at me and asks, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. It was just not what any of us might have guessed."

"Oh." Looking back at Kree'Gna, he seems to move right on, "So does NeeTah understand now that to get the spices to flavor the lamb, she HAS to cook it?"

Kree'Gna laughs, it is as hearty a laugh as a Xi'An can make. He only pauses to answer Naaēlish, who then joins him in uproarious mirth.

For the second time, Kree'Gna seems to freeze, though Naaēlish has no problem continuing his guffaws. From over my shoulder, the deep voice of Emperor Kray asks what I think means, "What is happening here?"

Both Kree'Gna and Naaēlish start to answer at the same moment, with the heir continuing as Kree'Gna falls silent.

Again, I sense that the entire room is focused on our small space.

The Emperor seems to ask a few questions which Naaēlish answers calmly. Finally, Kree'Gna addresses Bashir and I, "His Imperial Majesty is delighted that Bashir Abboud has offered mercy to Mai Ee'shu and holds no debt against her. It is a gesture normally only exercised by those who hold Klaahk's greatest virtues in utmost esteem." He pauses to listen to the Emperor continue, then continues himself, "First Above All Hatched wishes that Shawn Ryan would explain his use of Shē'sueren towards Mai Ee'shu; did it carry the true meaning?"

I rise and face the Xi'An's supreme ruler; it occurs to me a moment after I've done it that I'm not looking down, but the eye contact is already made, I'm not stopping now. "I understand Shē'sueren to be a honorable and truthful greeting that wishes true peace to the one spoken to. As long as I am not mistaken on it's use, then I have used it as it is intended: I have no wish to prolong the enmity between Mai Ee'shu and either Bashir Abboud or myself."

As he listens to the translation, I see the old head nod and the eyes sparkle with approval. Quietly, he says, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

I reply in kind, "Haeeth Dogo Xi'A Xres Kray, Shē'sueren."

Behind him, a Seer with a less than pleased expression breathes some word and the Emperor's expression darkens for a moment. I wonder if I'm breaking some rule in how I address the supreme ruler, but unless someone tells me, I'm not going to do anything different. He says something past me to Kree'Gna and the latter says, "First Above All Hatched grants you permission to look at him whenever you speak directly to him, in perpetuity."

A small nestling runs up and the ancient Emperor lifts him to our eye level. After whispering something in the child's ear, His Imperial Majesty says to me, "Shawn Ryan, rhitna nogg ith xres'sa (please see my eldest), Teekor Ee'shu."

I nod my head in the youngster's direction and offer, "Teekor Ee'shu, Shē'sueren."

The little one giggles and leans his head against his father.

The Emperor says something and Kree'Gna says, "His Imperial Majesty says he is still learning speech, please forgive his shyness."

"Please tell him it's all good."

…..

We are sitting back in our little cabin, Naaēlish, Kree'Gna, Bashir, and I. Naaēlish is working hard with Kree'Gna to understand more of what we say and trying to use English himself. Meanwhile, Bashir is listening closely to the translations and actually seems to be picking up a bit of Xi'An that he's smattering throughout his own responses.

I finally come back to the basic question, "So, does this mean that we don't have the Appeal thing tomorrow?"

Naaēlish looks at me with what might be a hint of sorrow.

Kree'Gna explains, "No. The Appeal to the Emperor has been decreed for tomorrow. It will still be before the Emperor's High Council... and a representative of the convicting authority is already here and prepared. The only chance to stop the council was lost when Bashir forgave Mai'Ee'shu without letting us tell him to ask for her to drop the charge of Disrespecting the Imperial NestLine."

Bashir looks disappointed but states without equivocation, "I did what I should have. I'm completely at peace with it."

"Even if we die for it?" I ask somewhat icily.

"Yeah. If I get to go Home, I'm cool with that."

"Home? I'm talking about being executed."

"You aren't a believer, you don't understand our hope."

Naaēlish has been listening to Kree'Gna through our discussion, but now he asks something that translates to, "Bashir Abboud is not afraid of death?"

The teen shrugs, "Nope. Kinda hate the idea of pain, but once it's over, I'd be past the trials. Kinda think Momma would be more upset about it happening to me than I would. I'd only really be sorry that you wouldn't be there, Mr. Ryan."

"I'll never understand you religious folks," I admit while shaking my head a bit.

"I hope you are wrong, sir," he says with what might be affection.

…..

I can hear something fluttering around near the rafters. Bashir continues to snore happily from his mat, but I'm actually unsure I've slept at all. There are small sounds, perhaps some bird with chicks up there is returning home with breakfast. Somewhere outside a flute or something very much like it plays a quiet almost mournful music. I listen in wonder.

Suddenly, I realize that what's keeping me awake is that I'm trying trying to get my own fearlessness to return. Heck, it wasn't all that long ago that I was fine with taunting captors, now I'm just plain unsure.

For all my experience with the Xi'An, I really don't know how their alien minds work. The similarities between humans and Xi'An are more than superficial, but likewise our differences. How can we ever really hope to understand them? Maybe a distant peace is the best we can do, our fears of the differences keeping us at arm's length.

The door chime interrupts my looping thoughts and I rise to find breakfast delivered. Pancakes and a sticky orchid-scented syrup, plus a jasmine oolong tea that must be one of mine. The only things missing are eggs and bacon... I imagine that the former would kinda not be likely given the concept of Hatched.

Oh, well.

"Bashir! Breakfast."

"Yeah, jix, there in a min," he mumbles, his head not stirring from the pillow wedged beneath it.

"You want any, you get up, Mr. Abboud," I order in my best attempt at a commanding voice.

"Yeah, alright, I'm up," he says, his body's prone position barely changing before he becomes still again.

Being the ornery captain type, I walk over, grab a corner of the mat and pull it violently from under him.

"Whoa! I'M UP ALREADY!" he exclaims, bounding to his feet.

"Yeah, well, breakfast is over there. Have some."

The lad doesn't bother with anything else, heading straight for the mound of flapjacks. I note that he absconds with far more than half, but I don't begrudge him any.

"Hey, leave some of the syrup for me!" I holler, noting how much he is pouring out.

"Oh, yeah, sorry."

…..

We are back into our dragonskins and the scarlet robes Naaēlish gave us last night have been brought to us cleaned and prepared... though I notice that Bashir's now has a new glyph on the sleeve above our common star Citizen one, it is a glyph I do not recognize.

We are dressed and ready when the little bell rings. Kree'Gna, Naaēlish, and Toth Anddag all stand at our door.

After greetings are exchanged, the Seer says, "Please come with us, Shawn Ryan and Bashir Abboud."

"Lead on, Toth Anddag."

"Please put your hoods up so," he instructs, raising his own, but not enough to completely cover his face.

Both Naaēlish and Kree'Gna do likewise. Bashir and I look at each other and then do the same as Seer Anddag leads us out into the sunshine.

…..

The walled compound must be dozens of kilometers across, from the paths we are taking, I can't even see the towers of the habitats outside the way I could yesterday from the terrace.

We pass many Xi'An, almost all Civil Service in modest garments or Imperial NestLine in far more colorful and probably expensive clothing. A few individuals greet Naaēlish in passing, two Seers greet Toth Anddag, and no one greets Kree'Gna or either of us. I do think our little knot of walkers is noticed by anyone out on the pathways, but no one seems too intent to observe us too closely.

…..

After what seems like an hour, we approach a massive structure that abuts the outer wall. Were I to guess, its location implies that many who use it live and work outside the wall itself; there is likely a gate directly into it from beyond.

The structure is built in organic curving shapes out of a lively red stone with large opalescent veins running haphazardously across each exposed surface. At places the sun shining on the stone reveals colors hidden within some of those veins, hues flashing vibrantly like gems only barely hidden beneath a veil.

We come to a portal of polished silvery metal which opens as we approach. The long cool hall beyond seems empty, but I note that the lights activate before we reach them and shut off behind us only meters after we have passed. Daylight behind us falls away and a glance back confirms that the outer door has closed.

Our footfalls are the only sounds as we continue, the lifeless polished walls reflect our passage, but nothing else. At the end of the hall, we enter a small chamber; after a few moments, I realize it is rising, much as an elevator might. We stand silently, Toth with his eyes closed, the rest of us looking back and forth at each other.

The door opens into a floor filled with light. Here we must either be very high in the building or at least the lights act as if we were. We step into the great room and I see that it is dominated by a single large round table. All seats in it are equal save one, most likely Emperor Kray's.

There are huge floor to ceiling windows along the walls except behind... the Imperial... wait, no, the walls must be images of some form, for even the place we have just left where an elevator room must be now looks like a broad expanse of lush jungle. Now that I look closer, it is more obvious that the walls are just that, since perspective doesn't change as we move.

Toth Anddag takes Bashir and me to seats on the far opposite side of the massive mesa from the Emperor's seat. Naaēlish seems appointed to be but one seat away from Emperor Kray's.

"Please remain standing," the Seer directs as Bashir looks about to sit.

"Yes, sir," my young companion says with at least a hint of "yeah, whatever" in his look.

From all sides, the images of a vast natural land erupt with doorways and several dozen Xi'An, mostly older ones, enter, each heading to stand behind a given seat. A loud growl sounds as the last one reaches his place. Within moments, the sound has been taken up by all the attendees, Bashir and myself excluded.

One last door opens and HIM, FAAH, Emperor Kray enters and strides to his place.

He is obviously formally arrayed, and for the first time, I see him wearing the Zagg'Radch, the broad ornament made of brilliantly polished Rhodium that is worn across the Emperor's face from the top of the nose down to the edge of the beak, extending from the front of one ear ridge to the front of the other with dips below the eyes that allow unimpeded vision. Sometimes referred to by humans as "The Imperial Beak" because of Senator Akari's description of it from the 2789 treaty signing, it must have originally been a cross between a face shield and a symbol of authority which could be conspicuously worn while also wearing a combat or pilot's helmet. Even from this distance of about fifteen meters away, the brilliant silvery metal guard is unmistakable. Seeing it in person, I now completely understand why the Imperial NestLine glyph is a simplified version of its shape.

At his left, a tallish Xi'An calls out something, I think I catch the Emperor's titles and name, but the accent is different and his speech faster than what I'm familiar with... he could just as easily be saying it is sunny out and that they are having lizard for lunch.

Emperor Kray sits and then the rest follow, I see Toth Anddag motion for us to do likewise and we both do.

The tallish Xi'An must have a role that requires him to speak for the council, he begins again and goes on for a while. I do hear "Shawn Ryan" and "Bashir Abboud" twice each in his train of monologue, albeit he badly mispronounces each. Finally, he stops and from my side, Kree'Gna begins to translate. In essence, the speaker has explained we have been formally found guilty by extra-judicial means of two serious crimes but that we have formally appealed to the Emperor and been sent to this council and His Imperial Majesty for a finding of either innocence deserving a dismissal of charges, or guilt to be dealt with by immediate execution for the inexcusable wasting of Imperial time.

He has also read the charges: "Attempted Murder of Imperial Customs Lead Ton Leena" and "Disrespecting the Imperial NestLine" with the conviction by presiding officer Tsee Allath on Xi.

"Well, what now?" I ask my friend.

Kree'Gna answers, "I don't know, I have never been here, much less for something as unique at this."

The speaker asks Kree'Gna something and I recognize him reply, "Ga (Yes)." He looks my way and says, "I was asked if I had explained what has happened so far and I said 'yes'."

"Jix."

Emperor Kray speaks in his booming voice and all nod.

Kree'Gna translates, "His Imperial Majesty has asked if all agree to proceed and all have assented."

The speaker calls something out and a face appears in four places on the walls in such a way that it can be seen by all without having to turn. I would swear I've seen that graying dino face before, but I can't be sure where. The male speaks and I think I know, it is the Customs Lead himself. Kree'Gna is listening, not daring interrupt as the face continues for several minutes. Finally it stops and Emperor Kray asks those attending something to which they reply "Ith shen'Ga."

The Emperor speaks and a smiling Kree'Gna turns to me and explains, "Ton Leena has explained that he was under orders to pull the box off on top of himself, that he unstrapped it as instructed and took the fall in a manner that maximized the chances of minor injury. The Emperor has asked the council if they agree that the charge of Attempted Murder should be dismissed and the council agreed. Emperor Kray finds you not guilty of the first charge."

Over my shoulder, Bashir says, "Slabbed!"

I nod, "Jix. But what about the second charge?"

He answers quietly, "They are about to call a second witness for that."

The speaker calls out a new name: Mai Ee'shu.

The room is still, no face appears. A door behind us opens, I can't see who is there without turning and figure I'll know pretty quickly if it is our former passenger.

A familiar voice rings out, but not the one I expect: it is Athas Mgren's.

The council speaker asks something in reply, but she seems to restate what she just said.

Kree'Gna translates, "Shawn Ryan, Diplomat Athas Mgren has just told the council that Mai Ee'shu has used a diplomatic courier's mission to return to her duties with High Council Advisor Attle Heehth at the Xi'An Embassy in Terra. She sends her regrets that she will not be able to testify."

"What's that mean?"

"I don't know yet."

Emperor Kray asks Kree'Gna something and he turns to me and asks, "His Imperial Majesty asks, 'Did you insult Mai Ee'shu during your trip from Terra to Xi?'"

I can feel the color drain from my face and my hands are turning clammy. Behind me, Bashir draws a sharp breath.

But if I'm going to be true to myself, I have only one answer, "Yes, please tell His Highness that I did. But Bashir certainly did not."

Now it's Kree'Gna's turn to pale as he looks back down the table. He can barely get the word out, but he does, "Ga (Yes)." He says more, but not very much.

I don't think the council expected to hear this, though I note that both Toth Anddag and Naaēlish don't seem disturbed at all. If anything the Seer is smiling.

The Emperor asks a second time, but it is just to make sure I understand the question; the answer remains 'Yes' for me but 'No' for Bashir."

The speaker begins to ask something new, but this time Toth Anddag interrupts. He asks Naaēlish something, the heir's answer is long and somewhat animated. Through it all, Emperor Kray is looking down the table at me, his expression hidden behind his royal faceplate.

After Naaēlish finishes, the Seer turns my way and asks what is translated as, "Will you explain the locations and circumstances of your insults?"

I explain about our stop on Xenia and Bashir's desire for chocolate. I describe Mai Ee'shu's confronting Bashir and my rather feeble attempt to intervene. When I recall her statement, "You pretend to sleep and let me deal with this creature: you are nameless coward." Kree'Gna gasps and I would swear that Toth Anddag does as well.

"Wait while I repeat this," he insists, "I do not wish to make an error with it."

He begins to speak and it is obvious when he reaches Mai Ee'shu's statement because there are several angry growls about the room and even Emperor Kray's eyes show stunned surprise.

The Emperor asks something and Toth Anddag walks to me.

"Shawn Ryan, will you allow me to test your statement?"

"Sure. How?"

He places a small tablet on the tabletop in front of me. "Please place your hand flat on this."

I do as instructed.

"Please repeat the insult Mai Ee'shu pronounced."

"She said, 'you are nameless coward.'"

"Were you still docked at Xenia in UEE space?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was she a guest on your ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"And your insult of her came after this?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did you insult her?"

"I questioned her honesty."

"Did you question the Imperial NestLine?"

"Never. The few members of the Imperial NestLine that I have known, her excepted, have all behaved with honor and treated me with dignity."

"You may take your hand off the pad."

I do as instructed and he lifts the device and walks away.

Taking his place, Toth Anddag remains standing; he looks at the assembly and begins speaking, around the table I see several heads do that Xi'An equivalent of nodding, including the Emperor's.

On he speaks, even somewhat impassioned by his topic.

More of the council seems to be agreeing with whatever the old Seer is expounding on.

With a final flourish, the Seer settles into his chair and all eyes are now on me.

"Well?" I ask Kree'Gna, but he raises a hand to silence me.

We are waiting for something.

Waiting.

His Imperial Majesty, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray speaks, the council all responds in unison, "Ith shen'Ga."

The Emperor speaks again; Kree'Gna smiles and turns to the two of us, "His Highness wishes to inform you that you are cleared of the charge of Disrespecting the Imperial NestLine. He grants you a 'Wiping Away'; as of now the charges never existed."

…..

The afternoon breeze on the Emperor's terrace is gentle, dispelling some of the humid heat. Emperor Kray sits where he did yesterday, but this time instead of a crowd of courtiers, he has his Empress and three little nestlings running around. Near at hand, Naaēlish sits relaxed on a small stool, observing. Strangely, Bashir is sitting on the ground rolling a ball back and forth with Teekor and I would swear that both are giggling.

Kree'Gna is standing beside me, translating as His Highness speaks, "Shawn Ryan, you have not asked me for anything."

"I have no right to ask for anything. You have already granted my innocence."

"I allowed my..." Kree'Gna pauses because the Emperor has. The strong old face watches Bashir playing with his toddler, then resumes.

Kree'Gna does likewise, "I allowed my judgment to be clouded by my emotions. It is hard to find an honest human, one who will even incriminate himself, risking death, rather than lie."

"Please, Your Highness, there are many. Maybe not the ones who are in power, but there are still many. Bashir would have done the same and he is still a youth."

He looks up at me once he understands what I've said and chuckles.

"You are a rare creature. You do not hide your emotions or your temper, but you are loyal and honest. You have served your Imperator better than he will ever know, maybe better than your government deserves.

"I have already sent word back that we accept his last terms. I have ordered Jenk Gallen released. Torsi Leelk and Attle Heehth have been instructed to arrange a formal meeting on Hadur III to allow your government and news organizations to spread peace instead of war."

Kree'Gna falls silent again.

Teekor charges at Bashir on short but strong little legs, bowling the teen over and play wrestling. Bashir quickly uses his size and is mercilessly tickling the little one while the latter giggles and giggles. The Empress even laughs at their shenanigans.

"You are a strange pair. Naaēlish has asked if he may visit you both on your world, very secretly, of course. He believes that you are both the kinds of humans we should get to know. He also says that NeeTah insists on him getting the manner of making Bashir's strange breads from his mother."

"Naaēlish Ee'shu is welcome at my place, and Jurdi Abboud is my partner, there should be no trouble getting the recipe."

"I have a request of you, Shawn Ryan."

"How may I serve?"

"Know first that you are no longer an Imperial contractor. I grant you full payment for your missions, and the replacement of the ship you lost while trying to protect your diplomat."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"I would like very greatly if you and Bashir Abboud would consider becoming informal ambassadors for your kind. I would have one or both of you here to offer your way of seeing on matters concerning humans."

"I... wow... um, I would have to let Bashir's mother decide for herself if she will allow it. I think she wants him to go to her old school, UPARQ, and I understand his scores are very good. Not to mention that Bashir is his own person."

"And for yourself?"

"Please understand, I'm flattered to have Your Highnesses confidence... but I will need to think about it. I love my home very much, and flying in space even more."

"Consider it. If not for my sake, then for the sake of Naaēlish's friendship."

I look over at the heir and realize that he is listening quite intently.


	33. After Words

2943.11.27

On the planet Hadur III, the UEE's High-Secretary and several members of the Senate are being shown around on the surface by a Xi'An contingent led by Torsi Leelk and Attle Heehth. Even now, Spectrum channels are lighting up with the glowing news coverage, and as the Emperor foretold, peace seems to be breaking out from every government person asked for a position and every media talking head giving their opinion in spite of how little they know. Granted, it constitutes the first pause in the almost nonstop hysterics that started just a few days ago... when Jenk Gallen got home.

…..

A nondescript Xi'An Dor'Qual settles in front of my hangar, kicking up dust that partially obscures the rolling emerald of the Torre Nor. Jurdi and Dean are standing with Bashir, each adult holding a little one. I'm rather at my ease, just finishing a chicken sandwich. The ship's hatchway opens; two heavily armed Nagdach in combat gear step down the ramp, then take positions on either side of the accessway. Next is Kree'Gna, followed by Naaēlish Ee'shu.

Across the table from me, a bald woman rises, "That him?" she asks.

"Mellow out, Gloria. He'll decide if he wants to talk with you or not."

"If he wants to know who is behind this, he'll have to talk with me."

"And if he doesn't want to, then you will remember where you are and not make him feel unwelcome."

"You've gotten pretty uppity in the time I've known you."

"Yeah, and it's all your fault."

She smirks, "You'll get yours."

"Yeah, but not for a while now, don't you know."

"Well, if they have a fountain of youth back there somewhere, I expect to be notified."

"I'll be sure to send you a pigeon."

"Ha ha, very funny. We both know you'll be back, if only for the kid."

"Yup. But I'm not likely to be quite the pushover in a couple years."

"By then, you'll just be Lanai's property."

"Only in my dreams."

"They going to let you fly out there?"

"Yup. But they're keeping the M50 on Jiā so it can't be tampered with."

"No jump drive?"

"Nope, don't want one. I get the ship so I can dance with the stars."

Gloria smiles, as near as I can tell it is a warm genuine smile. "You deserve stars without someone shooting at you. I hope you enjoy your time there."

"Yup," I respond, "It will be good just to be myself... The old guy who loves the glowing void."

Gloria grins, "TOG in Space."

(the end)


	34. glossary & notes

TOG In Space does not represent canon for Star Citizen; it was begun before we had much lore at all, much less for the Xi'An. As of this posting (January 2016) we still do not have much more than when I was mentally solving problems and filling in the gaps between inception in 2013 and early 2015 when the story finished.

In order to write the story, I've created quite a bit of explanation/backstory; for the sake of perhaps explaining things that might not be apparent, I am including a large slice of that background here: the glossaries, a complete character list, and some of the most pertinent Xi'An lore. Please feel free to ask questions of me if you wish.

...

Glossary

Astranym - the English word for the second part of a Xi'An name, it is usually related to the family nestline, but not always (especially for noname Xi'An)

cap - slang for any tDCS device; the most common models do look like caps with the array of electrodes woven in, but flight helmets and other headgear can also be "caps".

Capper – slang for a person who spends long hours using a tDCS (transcranial Direct Current Stimulation) training "cap" to learn any of an array of skills much faster than normally possible, to many folks they are considered comparable to other kinds of junkies.

C-coal - a chemically reactive heat source used for barbecuing; unlike our modern charcoal, it doesn't give off harmful or restricted gasses or require any form of oxidation. The heat is therefore clean... but to have a smokey flavor, one has to drizzle various plant extracts over the c-coals while cooking.

Clisnas - small pink to reddish pear-shaped pithy fruit native to Terra III (but common in the eastern UEE) that tastes like a cross between an orange and champagne; because of it's thick pulp, it is often juiced.

Croshaw's Revenge - most common form of jump sickness, often considered a rookie mistake; for those susceptible to it, it is usually caused by eating too much and then travelling through a jump lane (ie., interspace). Symptoms include high fever, nausia, and loose bowel issues, and it usually lasts three or four days.

Dekaday - ten days, a human term for the ten day period ("a'tēēl") that is used by the Xi'An much as we use the seven day 'week'.

dinos - a human reference to a group of Xi'An with slightly more lizard-like or dinosaur-like faces (Sommne); these Xi'An have teeth instead of turtle-like beaks.

Fatayer - a savory meat/cheese/whatever pastry common in the Levant. The kinds Jurdi makes are similar to traditional Lebanese fatayer recipes with pleasantly spiced lamb and cheese. (actual Arabic word)

fist bump - a part of human greeting rituals that has replaced shaking hands in several cultures; came into popular use after a number of rapid spreading pandemics in the 21st century were traced to physic contact like hand-shakes. (from davidon)

Great Banner - The Milky Way Galaxy; seen from deep space, it dominates the view looking much like a river of burning sand... and like a king's banner of old drew the intrepid forth for battle, so now the Great Banner draws intrepid pilots forth to conquer the void.

(The) Hatched - (alternately, "The Intelligent Hatched") a translation of "Xi'Aah" (Xi'An), it can be used in conversation with or reference to Xi'An.

HogBack - an older gunship model, it was much more common in the 2800s. Its parent company, Holes Inc., was bought out by RSI four decades ago.

Imps - slang for Imperials, more properly known as UEC or United Earth Credits.

jape - slang for a jump point (from kazee)

jix- rough equivalent of vernacular uses of 'cool', 'sweet', or 'sick'; often used as an exclamation (eg., 'Jix!').

MUD - common term for DSML, a drug used to save pilots ejecting into space from dying due to extended exposure. MUD is injected into the bloodstream, usually from a packet incorporated into spacesuits at the collar; it takes sixty to ninety seconds before the pilot looses consciousness, and after recovery while the body is warmed, the pilot's blood (and hence his/her cells) must be cleaned. Pilots usually regain some level of consciousness within 48 hours, but are unfit to fly for a week to ten days. Unlike Antifreeze, MUD is somewhat democratized, with different providers, cost points, and tweaks on method of delivery; there is even the option for the more chemistry literate folks to brew up their own. The greatest advantages of MUD are that a pilot who is injured or has a minor suit rupture (anywhere except the helmet) can survive. Also, it is based on the original cryo transit formulas used on the Artemis and other early exploration and colony ships; this gives the added value to a pilot of creating a state of complete stasis. This is incredibly important for pilots who are likely not to have an S&R MedEvac nearby to pick them up within the next 24 hours. There are credible reports of 'MUDdy' pilots being fished out of space years after their ships were shot out from underneath them and being revived by the standard MUD process.

oxy-capper - the stereotypical tDCS capper, these "'lectro junkies" not only spends long hours using tDCS training "caps" but they breathe pure oxygen while doing so.

puchast - a nasty human slur.

Python - a gunship introduced during the first Tevarin war (2543). While now considered ancient, many heavily upgraded units are still in service in borderland systems and lesser priority areas due to their toughness and ballistic firepower. However, they are bulky and not exceptionally maneuverable compared to modern designs, and unless significantly modified they are very ammunition dependent.

Rarish - an urban teen subculture, it is mostly focused on a wild form of dance (also called 'Rarish').

Rarish dance - a popular (30th century) teen form of dance, performed in wild crowds to music typically with fast driving beats and thick bass/bass drum percussion; by twentieth century standards, the music sounds like a blend of Trance with middle eastern/eastern European instruments driven by a phat bass line.

Rat's Blood Reactor Fuel - A hot sauce made from extract of ghost chilies, fire flowers, and several secret ingredients (likely of Xi'An origin), it comes in a black bottle with a blood red skull and crossed bones and equally blood red lettering on it; Rat's Blood is generally accepted to be the hottest (spicy) sauce known to man, and is at least equal to anything the Xi'An have ever demonstrated to humans.

RSI Hopper 450 - Short range four/five seat spacecraft, most commonly used as a "taxi" for reaching orbital platforms or taking travelers around a planet (does not have the range for interplanetary travel); the seating is usually arranged with two seats in front and two behind, laid out much like a planetary hovercar or sedan.

sequence - a secure communications protocol that uses encryption and multiple channels. A simplified explanation is that three or more separate channels are used, each broadcasting continuously throughout a transmission (the broadcasts may have meaning or be complete random gibberish). The actual communication, after being encoded, is scattered across the channels in a predetermined manner. The channels themselves are then usually also encrypted. Without the initial sequence (the number of valid channels and their cyphers) and a common reference point in time, it is exceptionally difficult to crack a long message, and impossible to crack a short one. However, since the likelihood of transmission problems through jump relays is higher, such communications rarely use a sequence with more than four channels to reduce the chances that a retransmission will be required. In tight combat situations, where line of sight allows microwave burst communications, high powered command and control units may use up to nine channels that are open continuously (even when nothing is being communicated), making a crack statistically impossible.

Slabbed! - an excited slang roughly equivalent to "Cool!", "Jix!", or "Slick!"

somal - a large member of a cat-like species native to Terra; they most resemble a small jaguar (hence the common reference to 'Terran Jaguar'). They have a vicious reputation for brutally hunting livestock and occasionally humans.

Stamin - slang for standard minute, a human measure of time

tack - self-identification for a teen from the Rarish subculture (as in: "Where do the tacks hold on?" means "Where do the Rarish teens go dancing?").

Tonkor - High end mobiglas manufacturer (to use modern watches as an example, think just one step below Rolex); best known for 4 and 5 chip models (chips provide grid-free material or material needed where the grid isn't available) and their durable Informer MobiGlove®, a mobi device worn on the hand (hardware on the back of the hand) that is popular with pilots and anyone who finds a need to use both their hands. All current Tonkors can securely interface with visual technology like the retinal and newer ONI (Optic Nerve Integrated) implants and with molar and jaw audio implants.

trog - an insult questioning one's intelligence (from 'troglodyte').

UEGC 2741-171 Section 4 - the UEE Statute (Governmental Code) that grants (& covers) secrecy for OES covert operations and related information.

Ungun'd! - "I'm unarmed!" in the slang of junkies, criminals and pirates.

wauglash - a rude demeaning (human) reference to one or more Xi'An

whoaho - a human slur on par with 'bast-ard' or 'a**hole' (as in "you lying whoaho!").

...

Xi'An Glossary

a'tēēl - the Xi'An week (aka., dekaday), but composed of 10 kluh (days) instead of 7 days

Aet Nogg - the "Seer's Eye" glyph; the actual meaning of "Aet" is unclear, but Nogg involves seeing, vision, or awareness.

An'shan - human(s), humanity (literally, something like "warm things" or perhaps "warm bloods")

Athlē-korr - "Safe Travel" a formal good-bye. Roughly the equivalent of Godspeed in ancient Earthen sea-faring days. (canon/official from the "Meet the Xi'An" page)

Chac - A casual hello. To be used among peers or to subordinates. Use of this phrase from a subordinate to a superior or to a Xi'An of a higher caste than you will cause offense. (canon/official from the "Meet the Xi'An" page)

Chash'anori - Pretty good

Chash'ambosari - Good enough

Chash'ambosoy - (something close to 'good enough')

chrognaggh - bridge, but also used to imply a close connection or link; as in 'a good diplomat may be called a "bridge-builder"'

Dog Sha'U - the battery of tests to qualify for Xi'An civil service; they last a whole a'tēēl (Xi'An week, aka., dekaday).

Dor'Qual - an older Xi'An cargo craft, slightly larger than a Constellation and smaller than a Starfarer.

Ee'shu - astranym (kinda like a family name) for an Emperor's nestlings.

ga - yes

Gath - casual good-bye. (canon/official from the "Meet the Xi'An" page)

glee'ha - mildly intoxicating beverage with a bright ruby color, usually served chilled (but no ice). Similar to lagers in clarity and bite, but tasting like a slightly salty spiced wine. Imported in bulk by Mosh Nog Spirits (official Xi'An importer), but there are also local breweries authorized to make it in most systems along the Perry Line. Varieties: Glee'ha/Glee'ha Xree (rare in the UEE, the latter is a better brew of the same that is only produced in the Emperor's "authorized" breweries).

Grrsatch - the Xi'An equivalent of marriage, it includes pairing, nesting, and raising young. Note, when spoken, the word almost sounds like a cat's purr, implying some deeper satisfaction or pleasure to be found in this social bond.

Haeeth Dogo Xi'A Xres - First Above All Hatched, a title reserved for the Xi'An Emperor (literally "Raised Over Hatched (the) First")

Ith asas - generic admission of mistake; literally, "I wrong", "I err"

Ith lakshore - "Follow me"; literally, something along the lines of "I lead" or "I'm leading"

Ith shen'Ga - "I agree"; literally, "I confirm" or "I find (for) yes"

Ith Wahwei - "I don't understand" (more or less)

Jiā - homeworld of the Xi'An, seat of power for Emperor Kray and his governing council.

Kath - stop, usually as command; Kath! = Stop! Depending on context, alternate meanings are Cease!, or Silence!

Kla'Shi En - civil service "universities"; there are seventeen in the Xi'An empire.

Kluh - the Xi'An version of a standardized day, it translates to 25.85 hours Earth standard hours; "coincidentally", it is the length of the day on Jiā. (variant: klu')

Loaqlaa' - (UEEN designation = "Banshee") Well armed Xi'An heavy fighter/gunship produced by Mai'Eek Imperial (an Imperial Charter corporate entity). Like other Mai'Eek Imperial ships, it's flight configuration most resembles a figure eight, mounting engines and thrusters within loops and most weapons outside. It is much more maneuverable that the Xress, but does not have nearly as good aerodynamics for atmospheric ops.

Mahhragna ith ilxag - I am too humble for such honors (or something like that)

mit - 2 (two)

mix - teeth

molath - literally, eat 'mo' (a common food staple); the term is more commonly used to refer to dinner or any main meal.

Nagdach - a race (or perhaps species) of Xi'An notable for their physical size and strength; average adults are around 4 meters tall and weigh 500 to 600 kg. Skin coloration in the males is often brilliant blue to turquoise marks and accents (especially in the face) on forest green, while females are often equally brilliantly marked with reds on duller olive tones.

Nadjah Ith Mayn? - loosely translated, "Can you hear me?"

nog - involving seeing, vision, and/or awareness (variants include nogg and nogh).

punt - continue, literally "speak"

rhitna - please (e.g., "rhitna nogg" is "please see")

sagrathe - ghost, with a connotation of an evil entity.

shaē – Xi'An standardized "year" of 400 kluh (days)

Shē'sueren - literally "Hello and Greetings with Peace." This is the formal greeting and meant to only be used among close friends or with trusted business partners or in the hope of establishing a bond. Use of this phrase in a casual manner or when approaching a situation with tension or duplicity will immediately marginalize you in the Xi'An's eyes. One could argue that it's a pledge of truth and honor as much as a greeting. (canon/official from the "Meet the Xi'An" page) .

Slath! - "Move!" or "Get Up/Out!" - usually used as a command, normally under hostile circumstances. Also used as a command to initiate some operation in Xi'An group space ops.

taax - 3 (three)

taahg'naagch - humiliation, dishonor, lose face

Takshak - an exceptionally ancient formal Xi'An challenge that originated with male territorial disagreements. If accepted, it is settled with an urggh. Takshaki is the act of one Xi'An male challenging another with the takshak.

tash - another word for "continue" (similar to "punt"). Any other original literal meaning is not known at this time, however.

tēēl - 100 kluh (days) or one quarter shaē (year)

urggh - a deep drumming sound that is part of a ritual "nonviolent" dominance battle between two male Xi'An; it consists of a rising voicing described as kettle drums building towards a crescendo that continues to increase in volume and sonic force until one of the two cannot stand the pain and submits by becoming silent.

Xi'rrahn - a spicy Xi'An sauce for food, especially meats.

xre - one

xres - first

xres'sa - eldest

Xress - a courier class craft produced by Mai'Eek Imperial (an Imperial Charter corporate entity). Slightly smaller in mass than an Origen 350R; the Xress is considered by most to be the fastest piloted craft for linear acceleration (kinda like the space version of a top funny car drag racer) in the known universe. It has an exceptional acceleration curve but is not very maneuverable. It is also VERY lightly armed, carrying only two class three slots (usually with counter-measures and missiles). It most resembles a figure eight (8); the wings actually have good aerodynamic lift and can give her a good dynamic profile for atmospheric ops. The name in Xi'An is a play on "xres" which means "first".

Xsaxas'Ha 'Annan - (designated the "Night Witches" by the UEEN), an elite all female group of Xi'An fighter pilots. Their members are female Xi'An who, after finishing the required fifteen years service, decided to forgo pairing/nesting to stay on to train to become expert (and eventually) senior combat pilots. They are the amazons of the Xi'An and their units have legendary dogfighting skills.

Yay Shok - Present Credentials, usually an order, similar to the human order/request to present papers (eg., "Papers, please"). Literally, "Yay Shok" means something close to "Give Reasons" (or "Give Excuses").

Zagg'Radch - the Emperor's worn symbol of office (similar the a human king's crown). Sometimes called "The Imperial Beak", it is a custom ornament made of polished Rhodium that is worn across the Emperor's face from the top of the nose down to the edge of the beak, extending from the front of one ear ridge to the front of the other with dips below the eyes that allow unimpeded vision. One is fashioned for a new Emperor at ascension to the throne, but an Emperor may have several during a lifetime (as the face changes size and/or shape). The symbol is believed to have originally represented a head emblem (perhaps also a guard of some sort) which could be conspicuously worn while also wearing a combat or pilot's helmet.

Zsark - vertically oriented Xi'An craft slightly larger than a Constellation, usually used for VIP transport, rarely seen outside of Xi'An space except with their diplomatic corps.

...

Significant Character list

(by order of appearance)

Shawn Ryan: Human, aka "TOG" (The Old Guy)... the star of the show, if you will. Born in 2881, improperly convicted of piracy in 2898, released from RRS imprisonment 2907, graduated Advocacy Pilot school 2909. He was 61 at the start of the story in 2943.

Kree'Gna: Xi'An, Shawn's friend and sometimes partner, also Deputy Diplomat of some sort within the Xi'An Empire.

Duncan Fischer: Spacecraft AI voice, loosely based on the Solaris VII announcer in MW4:Mercs (voice acted by George Ledoux)

Gloria: Human, identified as a "Reporter" (one class of agent from MARC)

Arron: Human, married to Camilla, works on the tea plantation

Camilla: Human, married to Arron, manages the tea plantation

Jurdi Abboud: Human, "The best" suit tailor, her specialty is flight-suits; resides on Terra Prime. Shawn secretly wishes she were older and available as she is both cute and brilliant. Of course, if she were available and interested, Shawn would probably not worry about her just being in her forties.

Athas Mgren: Xi'An, Diplomat of the Empire to the population of the Terra system, adjunct to Torsi Leelk (official/canon) Diplomat to the UEE; she is member of the Emperor Kray's caste (aka., the Imperial NestLine).

Ksan Ko'Kree: Xi'An, intelligence councilor to Diplomat Athas Mgren (rank is similar to a CIA station chief), member of the 'Seer' caste.

Dora: Human, down on her luck kid... or at least that's what she says... occasionally works for 'Mark' ;)

Eowyn: Human, Director of Valinor Aeorspace's Hadur III Research and Supply Station.

Admiral Gramthr Emmin: Xi'An, Commanding officer for the Xi'An Navy in the Hadur system. Member of the Emperor Kray's caste (aka., the Imperial NestLine).

Dnong Ksack: Xi'An, very old, obviously an intel type, and a member of the 'Seer' caste.

Brother Patrick: Human, physician and Franciscan Friar from the Weymouth Priory (located about eleven kilometers from Shawn's tea plantation on Terra)

Toth Anddag: Xi'An, "Eldest Seer of the Outer Ring"; member of the 'Seer' caste.

Elsa Wong: Humam, OES Associate, psychiatrist at the UEE Xeno Affairs office in New Austin.

Po Shen-zhong: Human, OES Associate, Terra Prime assistant station chief.

Po Mai: Human, OES Associate, Married to Po Shen-zhong

Po Xin: Human, OES Associate, Po Shen-zhong's daughter, Xeno affairs specialist

Major McMurdoe: Human, OES Associate, Assistant to Po Shen-zhong

Gordon Bellforte: Human, OES Associate, black ops jack-of-all-trades, very familiar with Xi'An customs, at least common ones; master assassin.

Dr. Millesius: Human, OES Associate, psychiatrist, expert on interrogation results.

Dr. Lee: Human, OES Associate, ranking OES profile and asset psychologist on Terra.

Hornek Tish: Tevarin, mentioned as the source of several attempts on TOG's life; works for several unnamed Senators; not actually in the story as of chapter 13.

Dalton Banner: Human, bounty hunter

Agent Ellison: Human, Advocacy Agent on Terra assigned to the Prime office.

Associate Jones: Human, OES Associate, muscular black ops type.

Doctor Harrington: Human, doctor who tends to Shawn during his recovery from wounds.

Torsi Leelk: Xi'An, Xi'An Diplomat to the UEE (the official/canon/CIG one).

Lanai: Human, Flunkie that MARC sent to keep an eye on Shawn; she is Hawaiian and Shawn appears to have an unqualified attraction to her (as Gloria predicted).

Brother Colum: Human, Franciscan Friar and leader of the Weymouth Priory (located about eleven kilometers from Shawn's tea plantation on Terra). While not a physician per se, he is someone at peace and that peace seems to rub off on others...

Erica Vas: Human, OES Associate sent by Mr. Po to keep an eye on Shawn.

Captain Josiah Priest: Human, UENavy, Military intel officer.

Janice Amesly: Human, Director of Terran branch of The Imperator's office.

Lu Mei-Li: Human, Marshal with the Imperator's Office of Internal Security (think USA Secret Service).

Costigan: Human, Imperator of the UEE (canon character, but I haven't found a first name mentioned anywhere... will correct this if one is given in Canon).

Cynthia Mills: Human, Advocacy (acting) Section Chief, Terra

Bashir Abboud: Human, Jurdi Abboud's teenage son

Jamila Abboud: Human, Jurdi Abboud's (adopted) young daughter

Rashid Abboud: Human, Jurdi Abboud's (adopted) toddler son

Dean Olivian: Human, ex-SATABall center for the Earth team that won the league trophy in 2931 and 2933, now associated with Brother Colum somehow.

Amanda Starrington: Human, head of the Imperial Senate Intelligence Committee

"Carl": Human, member of the Imperial Senate Intelligence Committee

Howard "Howie" Aumundsen: Human, mechanic/tech on M50 racers, lives on Earth's moon.

"Fat" Claire: Human, (aka. "Skipper"), owns/captains a Reclaimer she calls the "SS Minnow".

"Professor": Human, (slave when first met) crewman on the "SS Minnow".

"Mary Anne": Human, actual name Svetlana Tolstoy, (slave when first met) pilot on the "SS Minnow".

Svetlana "Lana" Tolstoy: Human, originally introduced as "Mary Anne", pilot (and originally a slave) aboard the SS Minnow.

Ryoko Hirosu: Human, Deputy Adjutant to the Director of Terran branch of The Imperator's office.

Attle Heehth: Xi'An, High Council Advisor to Emperor Kray (the official/canon/CIG one).

Yanna Coso: Human, Ambassador to the Xi'An Empire for the UEE Diplomatic Corps (the official/canon/CIG one).

Mai Ee'shu: Xi'An, Special Assistant to High Council Advisor Attle Heehth, also xres'sa (firstborn or eldest) of Emperor Kray's seventh nesting.

Tsee Allath: Xi'An, a defense force commander at a prison on Xi, Rihlah.

Kray: Xi'An, His Imperial Majesty, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray (the official/canon/CIG one, though the titles HIM and FAAH are not canon).

Naaēlish Ee'shu: Xi'An, xres'sa (eldest) from Emperor Kray's 13th nesting, current heir to the Imperial throne of Emperor Kray.

...

Further Notes and Lore:

Basic Assumptions (Xi'An Lore)

The Xi'An are a space-faring species or very closely related group of species. UEE Xenobiologists understandably disagree about how to classify the Xi'An, since they have not gotten permission to genotype the Xi'An population, Xi'An biologists have proven loathe to share their data, and Xi'An in UEE space are distinctly disinclined to cooperate with packs of UEE scientists swarming after them trying to collect blood or tissue.

The Xi'An original home planet is the oft sought Jiā, though until Shawn Ryan and Bashir Abboud's mission for Imperator Costigan in 2943, no humans had visited there... or at least returned to tell the tale. Jiā is the seat of Imperial government and residence of Emperor Kray. While there must be jump points to Jiā, no human knows how many or from what systems; even Ryan & Abboud's trip did not yield jump-point coordinates for a route in because they were taken and returned under stasis. Xi'An expatriates claim that it is a superworld dominated by lush jungles, tropical seas, and many lower order species of hatched, plus sea life, a myriad of insect-like denizens... and there are even rumors of a few small live-born creatures.

The Xi'An measure time differently. The shaē are year like periods that last 400 kluh (days). Shaē are subdivided into four Tēēl (periods of 100 kluh), which are subdivided into 10 A'tēēl ("weeks" aka., "dekadays") of 10 kluh each.

In terms of Earth species, the many groupings of Xi'An are most similar to birds and reptiles (probably dinosaurs as well). As with many birds and some reptiles, younger and breeding age females are usually larger than males of the same age; in consideration of this, many military and civilian guards are female. However, Xi'An continue to grow throughout their lives (though after roughly the first fifteen annual cycles their growth generally minimizes). Someone you met fifty years ago would normally be noticeably larger (especially taller and having more bulk) after that time passed. Males tend to continue to grow at a slightly elevated level until they are nearly 150 standards old; by this time, they have equaled or exceeded the size of similar age females.

Most Xi'An "skin" color is shades of green, brown, olive-drab, or some combination of these. Some breeding age males develop head and face colorations; most often taking the form of skin or scales with red, yellow, gold, or blue markings. The most common of these display markings are scales with brilliant edge colors that naturally fall off after nesting. Most mature Xi'An males also have a dewlap, a fold of skin under the chin that can become red and distended when they are very upset or amorously aroused. Seeing a male with his dewlap distended is cause for great caution, but fortunately is rarely seen in public (at least when humans are present). Both coloration and the dewlap are likely vestiges from more primitive male territorial displays and courting behavior.

In general, Xi'An prefer to avoid violence as a manner of resolving conflict, considering it less efficient and more disorderly than reasoned argument or intellectual manipulation. It has been said that once crossed, a formerly friendly Xi'An can harbor a grudge for decades; if the offense is great enough, the scheming and machinations can take on truly Byzantine magnitude. Xi'An are, however, vicious opponents in actual combat, both as individuals and in Xi'An military units. Though still unseen by humans, tales of the Spirit Wars told by Xi'An expats are enough to make even veterans of the Vanduul conflicts take notice.

The Xi'An are a "hatched" species. In other words, they come from eggs laid by the female parent. Xi'An are decidedly NOT mammals, so females have no breasts. A normal brood of nestlings is three, though some subgroups and family-lines may lay as many as eight per nesting (some humans refer to these as a "clutch" though Xi'An who understand the term are generally offended by it). Most Xi'An will forgo subsequent pairing/nesting cycles until the previous generation of nestlings has reached the Age of Service and entered the military; principle exceptions are upper castes and especially the Imperial Nest-Line itself, where many broods of young can be primarily raised by surrogates (think nannies and/or childcare). Most groups within the Xi'An accept Klaahk's teaching that male female pairings should remain intact until all nestlings are mature enough to leave the nest (home). Furthermore, following the guidance of Klaahk in On Being Upright, the vast majority of these exclusive pairings are maintained for life. Even the Emperor and his Empress have been exclusive in pairing together.

The xres'sa ("eldest") nestling ("child") is the first to completely clear their egg's leathery shell, with the mother making the call if two (or more) of the nestlings appear to complete their escape at the same moment. While a nestling is still completely or partly in the shell, he/she is not considered to be what humans would call "born". Another difference, aside from the xres'sa, the rest of the siblings from a nesting are treated as birth order equals; this does occasionally complicate succession to primacy when a patriarch dies and any/all xres'sa are also deceased. Subsequent nesting are each treated similarly, but with nesting order recognized.

Pairing and nesting is forbidden during the mandatory fifteen years of military service. Some individuals who remain in service after that are allowed to pair and nest, though it is discouraged for members of the Imperial Navy and planetary (ground) combat troops. Officers are further discouraged from pairing/nesting until what we would consider flag rank (a General officer or member of the Admiralty... or above). This holds true even for Imperial Nest-Line officers.

Some subgroups within the Xi'An have four digits (three fingers and a "thumb") instead of five. This gives rise to a contrast in math & numbers within the Xi'An and between some of them and humans. These four digit Xi'An learn octal (base eight) and hexadecimal (base sixteen) numbers and math long before learning decimal (base ten); as a result, they are generally much better at thinking in a nearly digital manner than creatures who first learn to use decimal number systems. Nestlings from this group can normally count to two hundred fifty-five (255) on their "fingers" before their third shaē (by expressing 0 by a folded finger and 1 by an extended finger... two hands gives them an eight bit binary number... a byte). Many of these four digit Xi'An have longer nose/mouth structures (muzzles) and teeth instead of a turtle-like or bird-like beak; it could be said that they look more lizards or dinosaurs; UEE Xenobiologists who theorize that the Xi'An are multiple distinct species usually point first to this subgroup. One further note, the Seers caste includes a disproportionate number of individuals from these subgroups.

(ooc note: I originally imagined that all Xi'An were four instead of five digit creatures, and that their math was completely octal, hexadecimal, or binary... that didn't seem to fit with what we found out about them early on, so I reduced four digit Xi'An to being a subgroup. In TOG In Space, Dnong Ksack and Ksan Ko'Kree are both four digit Xi'An.)

Xi'An do not consider insects to be even a lower order part of the hatched; rather, like sea life and live-born creatures, they are considered food (humans excepted). There is some reason to believe that part of the hatred between the Xi'An and the rather insectoid Kr'Thak is that the latter claim to be the true "Hatched". How the Xi'An managed to translate an insectoid language is still unanswered.

...

Xi'An Races/Species (Xi'An Lore)

There are five known races/species of Hatched who all originated on the planet Jiā. In order of population within the empire, they are: Xi'An, Sommne, Nagdatch, Xai'Looch, and Tsee'La. All but the Xai'Looch are bipedal, and all but the Xi'An have at least one vestigial trait that makes them distinctly different, and so likely to be indicative of speciation rather than simple racial differences. However, there is no apparent attraction much less breeding across these groups, so the viability of crosses can not be observed.

To date, only the Xi'An and Sommne have been seen outside of Xi'An space and only Xi'An make up the expatriate community, at least in UEE space. There are rumors that there are both Sommne and Nagdatch among the diaspora within Banu space, but they appear to be very distrusting of humans and have never been sighted.

It is a common fact that all Xi'An encountered so far have refused to answer scientific study questions, much less consented to giving blood or tissue. Rumors that a group of UPARQ grad researchers attempted to kidnap members of a X'An delegation to extract DNA samples have not been independently verified, but many otherwise trustworthy persons on the Bio and Xeno campuses claim to have seen holovids of Xi'An from the delegation eating the grad students... live... as a warning against any further attempts. The claims seem further borne out by the fact that NO UPARQ research organization will even consider accepting funding to study the feasibility of, much less mount, a similar effort.

Xi'An:

The best known of the races/species is the one that now rules it's namesake empire. By far the largest number of Hatched are these beaked creatures, with almost 95% of the total imperial population. Xi'An Ja (or "True Xi'An") is the archaic term, but it has been officially forbidden to use the term since the acceptance of Klaahk's directives on governance. Today (2945), the term is only whispered by the most bigoted of the race, and then only outside of Xi'An space or in secret meetings unpenetrated by Seers or their spies.

Sommne: The most likely candidate to be considered a different species (at least of those Xi'An seen by humans) are the Sommne; they have three fingers and an opposable thumb while the other four races/species all have four fingers and the thumb. They also have teeth instead of beaks, but the Xai'Looch and Tsee'La are similar in this regard. These are the ones often refered to as "dinos" or "dino-faced". Even though Sommne make up only about 4% of the total population, a disproportionate number of them are Seers.

Nagdatch: By far and away the largest of the five races/species are the Nagdatch. Though they make up only about a percent of Xi'An population as a whole, they are often 90% or more of the shock troops and legal enforcers of the Empire. Skin coloration in the males is often brilliant blue to turquoise with marks and accents (especially in the face) of forest green, while females are often equally brilliantly marked with reds on duller olive tones. Aside from their size and bulk (Mature adults average four meters tall and weigh on average 800 kilograms; older males sometimes reach more than five meters and weigh as much as 1.5 metric tons), Nagdatch have one additional combat advantage: they have a vestigial nerve bundle just above the legs that can act for a short time as a second brain for movement should they sustain primary brain damage. In other words, shooting one through the skull in what would be a kill shot for any other human or Xi'An will not stop them immediately. Granted, the wound will still be mortal, but for several minutes, the body will aggressively act upon threats (presuming it still has one of it's five senses available to use to locate such threats). Nagdatch are, however, somewhat less intelligent that the average from the other races/species and to date none have risen into the Xi'An Civil Service.

Xai'Looch: (pronounced zai hlOOch or jai hlOOch, with the accent on the OO and OO pronounced like "loose" and "ch" like "church") The one non-bipedal member of the family are the aquatic Xai'Looch. They have much broader heads, with wide mouths, their heads mostly resemble those of newts or salamanders; like many of those, they can breathe in water or air. They also have long swimming tails and their hind feet normally are webbed (their forelegs/arms and hands are not). While they can raise up to something like a sitting position, their are most naturally inclined to lay on their stomachs, even in conversation with others.

Now often considered the mental equals of the best of the Xi'An, they were nearly hunted to extinction as an inferior race up until the reign of Emperor Chow (the current Emperor's great grandfather). While their numbers have rebounded some in the shallower seas of Jiā, they are believed to be less that .001 percent of the Hatched on Jiā and it is not believed that they represent any significant presence off of Jiā. Shawn Ryan has reported that he saw some craft modified for Xai'Looch to use, but there is not independent verification of this (partly because no one else has the same level of access to Xi'An core worlds). Xai'Looch are the only Xi'An who are officially exempted from martial service, though there is a branch of the naval academy dealing with developing actual naval strategies and tactics that is well attended by Xai'Looch (less than ten percent of living Xai'Looch have NOT served a fifteen year tour, with the entire term at this academy).

Tsee'La: These slight creatures have one of the more curious vestigial traits (though some Tsee'La claim it isn't vestigial at all, but an evolutionary precursor): they have folds of skin that stretch from their wrists to their legs along the outermost line. It is commonly believed that these folds at one time were much broader and gave the Tsee'La the ability to glide from higher locations. Again, some of them claim that these are merely evolutionary steps towards Tsee'La being able to fly. Their faces are longer than even the Sommne, but much narrower, almost birdlike in relation to their already light builds. Also like the Sommne, they have teeth instead of beaks; umlike them, however, their hands have the more common four fingers and thumb like the other three species.

Like the Xai'Looch, they were once hunted to the brink of extinction, but unlike the Xai'Looch their numbers have never really rebounded, with maybe 7,000 individuals registered (it seems that habitat loss is the main contributing factor as surviving nesting pairs fight for the more limited primitive nesting sites that Tsee'La prefer.

Though a tiny population, Tsee'La contributions are significant to the Empire. While not generally above the mean for most intelligence, Tsee'La have an incredible 360x360 (true 3d) spatial intelligence. This generally means that the most crucial scouting and interdiction jobs the military has, those along the Kr'Thak border, are reserved for these members of society, and as such Tsee'La pilots are treated much better than the average Xi'An. Tsee'La are the most naturally colorful of the Xi'An, their skin often ranging from a brilliant yellow to a scarlet red, often on the same individual (males are riotously patterned in the most vivid hues during breeding years).

...

The Precepts of Klaahk (Xi'An Lore)

The Precepts of Klaahk (also translated as "The Orders of Klaahk" or "The Guide of Klaahk") is an three millennium old written collection that puts forth a system of orderly social thought and organization upon which Xi'An society is now loosely based. It is very similar in many ways to the Analects of Confucius. Legend has it that it was taught by Klaahk to Emperor Lay at the end of what is now considered the seventh era, a time of destructive upheaval. The Emperor considered it so enlightened he used it as the centerpiece of a peace proposal that all parties agreed to... and the eighth (the current) era began. It might be fairly noted that the Xi'An since have not always been completely committed to following this orderliness, but despite the occasional internecine wars that have occurred (the last being about six centuries ago) they have continued to return to The Precepts of Klaahk for inspiration and guidance.

The work is broken down into sections, such as "On Being Upright" and "On Governing". Some of his better known "rules" are:

Honor is above all and Duty is the embodiment of Honor. (from "On Being Upright").

As the Xi'An are above all other hatched, so is the Emperor's Nest-Line above all other Xi'An. (from "On Governing")

Klaahk put forth the ideal that nested pairs had an honor-bound obligation to remain together while raising nestlings. He reasoned that it was essential for the good of social order and insured a complete education for the young. He further advised that truly upright Xi'An should pair for life, though he allowed a second pairing partner after one of the two had died without losing said upright status. Pairs who have been together for 128 shaē are greatly honored, wearing a white patch under their glyphs as long as they remain together; those rare few who reach their 256th "anniversary" are often invited to meet with the Emperor, are given the "Faithfulness of Upright Union" (a small shallow platinum drinking bowl) and publicly extolled as models for all Xi'An.

Some view Klaahk's design and creation of the civil service as his greatest achievement. He postulated that order was best kept through the then novel idea of putting only qualified individuals into positions of authority; up until then, it was the norm to have various warrior leaders and their offspring governing, usually with only self-interest guiding their actions. In On Governing, he excoriated this practice and showed how the endemic corruption of the system was crippling Xi'An social, economic, and scientific growth. Indeed, it was this part of his presentation to Emporer Lay that is seen as most influential in creating the core of Emperor Lay's successful peace proposal. (more on the civil service in the post on castes)

One of the most potent symbols of Xi'An social order is the seventeen Tablets of Klaahk, a series of linked ovid stone tablets that hangs down like a chain in the Xi'An Emperor's Hall of Council. They are believed to actually be the tablets Klaahk gave Emperor Lay as a gift before the latter knew the former. The tablets are believed to be the source of the Civil Servant's caste glyph, three horizontal ovids stacked vertically, just as the original seventeen are.

In the Eons since, The Precepts of Klaahk have been expounded upon by a group of scholars and legal minds, generally refereed to as the Many Since ("Arrish Hiet").

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Castes in Xi'An Society (Xi'An Lore)

Xi'An society is ordered on the somewhat contradictory ideals that nest-line (family) is important for the individual's future success... but that the individual is actually responsible to fill the highest social role they can earn (skill, talent, experience).

At the pinnacle of society is the Emperor's Nest-Line. Emperor Kray holds the current apex, but it is assumed that qualified members of the same line will assume leadership in government, military, and in those businesses considered "Imperial Charters" (spacecraft maker Mai'Eek Imperial is one of the better know Imperial Charters).

Most of Xi'An governance is centered in concentric rings of councils. Place on the system, planetary, and local councils is occupied by a mix of what might be considered "Noble" Nest-Line and the civil service. Civil service represents one of only two significant castes in government that is entered through hard work and diligence; the other is the much smaller Seers, the Empire's intelligence "agency" equivalent (more about the Seers to follow).

Civil Service

In the opinion of many, the Xi'An Civil Service caste is the backbone of Hatched society. Organized based on Klaahk's rules from On Governing, civil service populates government agencies with individuals who have earned their places through study, passing very rigorous exams, and on the job experience. Even Imperial Nest-Line members are subject to the same high standards, meaning that they are not just birthright position-holders.

Recruiters for the civil service monitor progress of Xi'An nestlings from throughout the empire, usually detecting intelligent youngsters early enough to watch for signs of aptitude, skills at discipline, and ethical behavior. Nestlings identified this way are then tracked through their military service for any deviations or further growth. At four a'tēēl (dekadays; ie., 40 kluh (days)) before the individual is released by the military, Civil Service recruiters are allowed to approach prospective candidates; most of these individuals if they have no desire to remain in the military will jump at the chance to join. Upon discharge, a recruited individual is sent to one of seventeen Kla'Shi En, civil service universities for up to two years of study preparing for Dog Sha'U (a battery of tests that lasts a whole a'tēēl (dekaday, ie, 10 standard days).

Seers

The Seers are a special blend of broad intelligence service, the Emperor's secret police, xeno (alien) monitors, councilors to higher level leaders, and the closest thing Xi'An have to moral police (protecting the society from negative influences... or at least what they think are negative). They usually recruit from military intelligence organizations; like civil service recruiters, they usually approach these individuals four a'tēēl (dekadays) before anticipated discharge.

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Common Glyphs (Xi'An Lore)

"Glyphs" are one of Xi'An society's short hands for recognizing an individual's place in the greater social whole. They are worn on clothing and also appear on vehicles and spacecraft (when appropriate).

Most individuals will wear two glyphs, general role (broad job class/caste) first, nest-line (family) second. The principle exceptions are the military, civil service, Seers, and the Imperial Nest-Line (more about each below). Because Xi'An society is stratified by caste, recognizing where one fits is usually considered the most important thing to know about them. Xi'An from unrecognized families or the base caste wear only their caste glyph. It should be noted that most Xi'An expatriates or criminals will usually wear only a family glyph if they wear any at all.

In most formal attire, glyphs are displayed on the left sleeve of the garment, sometimes in ostentatious display (especially true for members of the Imperial Nest-Line), but more often muted and stacked up from the cuff in order of ascending importance. On less formal wear, the glyphs are displayed on the collar, starting just left of the center of the throat and moving further left in order of descending importance.

Military

The military replaces the two common kinds of glyphs with a different set entirely. First is always one that represents rank. Next for the majority of individuals is their role/assignment glyph.

There are two exceptions to this:

First, the Imperial Nest-Line is the only nest-line glyph allowed, and it always comes after rank.

Second, is the special units glyph, which follows rank (and Imperial Nest-Line if present); units like the Xsaxas'Ha 'Annan (aka., the "Night Witches") have a special unit glyph.

A further glyph may be added after role if the individual has received higher order commendations or any of the special recognitions that humans call "medals", but only one glyph may be added, no matter how many such commendations have been earned (the glyph representing the "highest" one earned is usually the one displayed, but that is at the individual's discretion).

Civil Service

The civil service caste glyph is the most recognizable one to outsiders, since the diplomatic corp, customs, and various port and trading officials all are part of the Xi'An civil service. It is believed by most that the glyph is a representation of the first three of the Tablets of Klaahk, since Klaahk's original teaching/guidance is responsible for the formation, organization, and intended conduct of the Xi'An civil service.

Individuals serving within the civil service normally wear three glyphs, the unique "Civil Service" caste glyph (three stacked elongated ovids as seen above), followed by a role glyph (usually representing both the department of current assignment and the job performed), and finally a nest-line glyph. The principle exception is the Imperial Nest-Line; in the same manner as the military, the Imperial Nest-Line glyph follows only the civil service glyph, the role glyph coming last.

One further special note: if the individual came into the civil service from an unrecognized family or the base caste (so they have no nest-line glyph), the third glyph is a repeat of the civil service caste glyph; in this way, the civil service announces to all that such individuals have elevated themselves into the family of civil servants. One note, however, since civil service is not hereditary, the civil servant's immediate family (partner and nestlings) may only wear the civil service glyph as a nest-line glyph for as long as at least one adult in the family is a civil servant and (in the case of nestlings) only until they are age eligible for military service.

Seers

The Seers' glyph is a horizontal oval with a circle within it, it represents a stylized eye. Seers are the only Xi'An caste that is proud to normally only wear the Aet Nogg, the "Seer's Eye" glyph. Even most Imperial Nest-Line members choose to forgo adding the Imperial Glyph; principle exceptions being the titular heads of the "Inner Ring" where secrecy of the fact is of no use.

Imperial Nest-Line

The Imperial Glyph is believed to be an extremely simplified representation of the Zagg'Radch, the Emperor's worn symbol of office. Only "acknowledged" Imperial descendants may wear it, usually only to the second "cousin" of a past or present Emperor. As noted above, the Imperial Nest-Line glyph is placed in an honored position that insures it is recognized as different from common Hatched nest-lines.

One special note, after ascension, the Emperor only wears one glyph: the Imperial glyph.

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Imperial Charters (Xi'An Lore)

There are many kinds of business enterprises in Xi'An society, but there are really only three general classes: common, illegal, and those operating under an Imperial Charter.

Imperial Charter companies usually have at least ten percent of their funding initially supplied by the Imperial NestLine, and often by the Emperor himself. Major Imperial Charters, like Mai'Eek Imperial, may have as much as 51% of their ownership in Imperial hands. Usually, Imperial Charters will have an Ee'shu (member of the sitting Emperor's immediate family) on their equivalent of a board of directors or in one of the top three executive positions. Again, using Mai'Eek Imperial as a well known example, out of seven board members, three are Ee'shu, another Imperial NestlLine member is a fourth, and the Managing Director (roughly the CEO) is the xres'sa from Emperor Kray's ninth nesting.

Mai'Eek Imperial

Maker of three different spaceship chassis, Mai'Eek Imperial has been in business for almost 450 shaē, originally building the Empire's premier survey ship, the Ta'Pah, but soon thereafter taking an imperial contract for a new heavy fighter, the Loaqlaa' (later called the "Banshee" by UEE units who heard it's unworldly howl during atmospheric operations long before they ever saw the ship). Recently (32 shaē ago), they added a superfast courier ship to their offerings, the Xress; weighing barely more than an M50 but with several times the thrust, it is considered by many to be the fastest production ship in the known galaxy.

Above are rough head-on silhouettes of the three craft. The central circles are the central ship body, the larger circles off center are powerplant/thrusters, and the smallest circles on the Loaqlaa' are weapon mounts/pods. Powered is delivered through matched powerplant and thruster sets that are self contained external to the small ship central cores. The Ta'Pah has two class 2 engines that abut the central core, while both the Xress and the Loaqlaa' have four completely outboard class 3 sets. The greatest advantages, according to Mai'Eek engineers and several Special Naval units that use the Loaqlaa', are that power and performance can be kept high even if one or two of the sets is damaged or destroyed and that when all four are operating at full power, the high ROF energy weapons will not drain either the shields or the thrust..

The biplane like wings on the Ta'Pah and Xress have great lift (the Ta'Pah only when horizontally oriented), with onboard avionics adjusting the aerodynamics of the wings based on their orientation to planetary gravity and any maneuvers.

One of the main distinguishing features of Mai'Eek Imperial ships is that the cockpits are essentially gimbaled, so the ship body can reconfigure for horizontal rather than vertical aspect (so the Ta'Pah can glide, for example). All three ships also dock with the cockpit faced into the Xi''An standard docking port.

From the side, Mai'Eek Imperial ships are boxy, rectangular craft. The exception is the Ta'Pah; when it is gliding it deploys a long telescoping boom-like tail that serves as an enhanced rudder and balance. The engines (powerplants & thrusters) are completely shielded by the wings (so you can not see them from the side). On the Ta'Pah, the cockpit dome sits completely forward of the wings, on the Xress, only enough to dock the cockpit, and on the Loaqlaa' it can extend forward to be completely exposed or retract back into the body for additional protection. Most of the weapons on the Loaqlaa' are large (size 3 or 4) class 1, excepting four wing mounted missile racks. The wings of the Loaqlaa' can pivot off the plane in two places (the section with the engine sets and the section behond with the weapons) when in combat configuration, so those fixed class one have a limited turret action.


End file.
